


Masked

by Brainboxy (Pixichan)



Category: B.A.P
Genre: (slight future setting), Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Gangs, Blood and Violence, Consensual Violence, Guns, M/M, Mild Pet Play, Polyamory, Rough Sex, Varying Kinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-08-23 23:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 103,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8346379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixichan/pseuds/Brainboxy
Summary: Daehyun is a fanboy of the mysterious, murderous gang known as the Matoki. When the opportunity comes to finally belong to them in one way or another, Daehyun takes up every action possible to make them want him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ??????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
> 
> I don't know why this is happening but it's happening
> 
> also if there's something you'd like to see in this story, i dont know what I'm doing so tell me and maybe itll happen and if theres something i need to tag please tell me im still not good at Ao3 tags

It had to be about a hundred years ago that the first one of those bunny eared freaks of nature was spotted. Of course, the bunny ears themselves were nothing unnatural, just attachments sewn onto the hoods of the sweatshirts they wore. Some conspiracy theorists liked to say they were real, that the members of the gang all actually had bunny ears amongst their superhuman traits, but it was pretty clear to anyone who saw them that they were just cloth.

Among their more unexplainable features was a certain invincibility to everything. When they were shot, they simply kept going. When they were tear-gassed or smoked out, still nothing. And it seemed to be the same group of people for the past hundred years, although no one had seen their faces to know for sure.

The gang was a curse and a blessing to their streets, their bunny symbol tainting nearly every corner of the city outside of the very outskirts. ‘Matoki’ was sometimes spray-painted beneath it, although in their beginning days it supposedly said ‘Masked Rabbit’ instead. 

They were ruthless, and killed anyone that stood in their way, let out the slightest insult to them, or took on their image. If a gang got too powerful, the cops would find their blood spattered all over a warehouse, with the matoki symbol painted in their blood on the walls or on the floor, one for each person they killed that day. The bodies were never found, but there was no doubt they were dead. If anyone caused too much trouble at their night clubs, shorted them on a payment, or even uttered a bad word about them too loudly, they would come and that person would meet the same fate. 

The rule against taking their image was a strange one, because it seemed certain things were permissible while others were not. The youth of the city, especially those that would consider themselves alternative or who were trying to rebel, would mimic their look to a certain degree — black jeans, black sneakers, a thin black hoodie with cloth ears dangling down (the hood was never to be worn up unless the wearer really wished to die), and the colorful mask. 

The actual members of the gang wore two masks, the first went over their whole head supposedly, and under the other mask, although no one knew for certain. It was almost always black, although there were reports of another bunny with a white face mask, and one with a pink one showed up once fifty years before. This mask obscured all of their features, and featured opaque glass eyes, larger than any humans and making it impossible to see the real eyes of the wearer. No one was to copy the face mask, that was certain death.

But the second mask, over just the lower parts of the face, was iconic and worn by many. Some argued that the only people unwilling to wear just that lower face mask were the members of the gang themselves, when out and about in normal clothes instead of their costumes. It looked like any other biker mask, with the key feature of being one solid color and featuring some number of breathing strips cut into the plastic, but still any skin was not visible because of the mesh fabric within these strips. There wasn’t a real consensus on exactly what the colors were, nor how many there were. Some believed each of the masks was different, others believed they were all the same outside of changing colors. The number of possible colors ranged from some, that said there were only five, to others who claimed there to be over one hundred. Everyone could agree on the five—red, pink, yellow, green, and a light blue. The most common sixth color listed was white, but most rejected anything other than those five as valid.

Daehyun had always been fascinated by them. He was so curious about who or what they were. Curious enough to do something stupid, if his brother hadn’t stopped him. He dreamed about them, he looked for them, and he desperately wanted to know them. Maybe it was odd to be a fanatic of hundred year old murderers, but considering what his life was, he supposed it wasn’t too much of a surprise.

His older brother, Inguk, was the only family he had, and that was okay for the most part. They got by. For a long time, Inguk had worked as a bouncer at a nightclub, and he would work as a hitman or a bodyguard whenever the offer was made by the club owners. Recently, one of the non-Matoki gangs in the city had taken him in. There was a surprising number of those, all confined to the little areas the Matoki would allow them. When his brother moved in with the other gang members, Daehyun came with him. He didn’t have much of a place amongst them, he certainly never actually participated in their activities given how much Inguk freaked out when he was within 10 feet of a gun, but he did what he could to make himself useful. He cleaned up the house, sometimes he cooked things, and he beat all their high scores at video games just to prove to them that they were not the hot shit they thought they were.

Shooting games were by far his favorite, he never missed a target. Sometimes his brother would take him to a club and Daehyun would prove he had similar aim in real life, hustling people hanging around pool tables or dartboards. He used to argue with Inguk that it didn’t make sense to forbid him from being near guns when he was the better shot, but there wasn’t much reasoning with his brother.

He kept his fascination with the Matoki from his brother’s gang. They teased him enough as is. His brother promised constantly that once they saved up enough money they would kill them and go live a comfortable life far away, but Daehyun couldn’t be happy with that because he meant he would be far away from the Matoki. Perhaps it was odd how easily they talked about killing, but amongst the two it had become an essential and unavoidable element of the lives they lived. Death was as entwined with their existence as the atoms that made up their cells and the bones that their bodies bore. There was no question between them that one day their gang would be dead, and it grew likelier by the day that it would be by their hands. It wouldn’t have been the first time. It likely wouldn’t be the last, unless Daehyun finally had his way, handed to the Matoki and his brother serving them as well.

He wasn’t the only one with this morbid myopia for the mysterious, murderous Matoki. For the last hundred years, there had always been fanatics. Amongst them, secretly, there were whispers that those fanatics that were good servants to the Matoki would be allowed to join them, not as members but as entertainment or servants. They tattooed themselves with the Matoki symbol, wherever they felt it fit best, in hopes to be identified and chosen to be taken by their beloved killers. 

Daehyun had gotten one himself, much to his brother’s anger, at only fifteen years old. It covered his entire back, the black ink not only scrawling out their symbol, but also the words ‘Masked Rabbit’ underneath. It was the first tattoo he got, although certainly not the last. He wanted to belong to them so entirely that thoughts of them absorbed all of his idle thoughts.

Since then Inguk had accepted his brother’s fixation, and began finding fascination in the life of a fanatic. He would listen to Daehyun whisper about them, in a quiet, transfixed voice so unlike his usual boisterous self, for hours and hours on end. It had only been a month since he marked his upper arm with the same tattoo as his brother, although Daehyun was never sure if it was because he shared the same desire to be owned by the Matoki, or if it was just an assurance they would stay together in all phases of life. If Daehyun was to go, his brother would follow.

It was so uncertain, so unclear. As much as Daehyun prayed for them to find him, to rescue him like nefarious knights and claim him as their own, as much as he frequented areas known to be theirs and seek them out, they were nowhere to be found. The day of meeting would never come, no matter how much he prayed. Eight years of searching, and he never even caught a glimpse. He would never know them, it seemed.

They were still his only thought, but he searched less and less. He wanted them, but he knew he could not find them. If he was a good boy, they would find him. 

The day came. The day he never expected to come, came. His brother’s gang was planning on shooting up and robbing a supposedly unassociated club near their territory, and so they spent several weeks going to case the club. They were too slow, in Daehyun’s opinion, it made them too easy to catch. They were becoming regulars in their attempts so find out the necessary details. Any regular or bartender, and all of the bouncers, would know their faces well enough to point them out to the police. Daehyun was sick of their stupidity.

But there he saw one of them. In a brief moment, in a back alley, he saw those trademark black clothes with the cloth ears coming down. The figure stood over a bleeding body and Daehyun’s heart pounded with excitement. It was really them! Dressed in all black like the omen of death they were, Daehyun was nearly bouncing. The Matoki didn’t see him, or if they did, they did not care enough to acknowledge him. Their face mask was black as to be expected and their colorful mask was green. By the time Daehyun had fully processed what he had saw, the Matoki was gone, leaving the dead body and the symbol painted in blood in their wake.

He could not believe it. His heart dropped, but he reminded himself of the patience necessary. He would have his way, it was more certain now than ever before.

Daehyun knew what it meant, that this club was likely owned by the Matoki, but he did not tell his brother’s gang. He knew speaking up, even if to protect them from doing something dumb, would but him in disfavor with the gang, and if the word got out that the club was Matoki, they may even kill him for his words. But, there was a second reason, one much more disturbing. Daehyun wanted to watch what they’d do to his gang for their stupidity. Even if it meant dying himself, he would be honored to die at their hands.

He approached the body with morbid intrigue in the injuries blossoming across the bruised body. Their blood painted their body and their bones broke through the skin to make the slouched form into a contorted masterpiece. Daehyun could not fight his smile. He was so close to them now. It would not be long now.

He taunted his brother’s gang for how long they had spent preparing. They bent to his will like grass in the wind, and a date was set so close to his sighting. He would finally have his wish come true.

The day they were meant to raid the club, Daehyun made his older brother stay home. He pretended to be sick, inhaling powders to make his nose run and scratching his skin red. His lungs hurt from all of the coughing the powders forced on him, but he succeeded in making his brother stay home. They didn’t really need him anyway, he was just back up in a club with little security and no apparent cause for alarm.

While the gang was out sealing their fate, Daehyun enjoyed a night curled up against his brother, permitted to act childish and whiny by his faked condition. It was nice to have those moments together, knowing that he might not be able to see his brother again if he played his cards right.

Inguk was the only one in tune with his brother’s manipulation, and underneath all of his concern and care was a solid skepticism of Daehyun’s intents. “Don’t do anything dumb.” He reminded.

The spark of excitement in Daehyun’s eyes brought him more worry than anything else could.

He was eager as he awaited their response, and disheartened when at first there was none. He looked for them, constantly, around all of the area near their house with a prayer to just catch another glimpse, even one, but for a full week there was none. His gang had begun spending the money and selling the drugs, but he obstinately refused to take part in their festivity. Inguk had picked up on his brother’s odd behavior and rather than question, he mimicked. 

“Just don’t get yourself killed.” He had grabbed Daehyun’s arm and whispered while Daehyun was on his way to the kitchen.

“I’ll do what needs to be done.” Daehyun whispered back, cryptically, and he could see his brother’s face contort in discontent. He had a certain propensity for perplexing phrases that Inguk always decoded to be about his brother’s obsession.

His brother went silent then, for the rest of the week he would not speak with the others. He shared glances with Daehyun, now knowing the fate awaiting them, but he did not say a word. It was frequent in the time to find Daehyun’s fingers tracing over the hidden mark on his brother’s shoulder or have him rest his head against it, a small, secret smile on his lips. They had always kept their tattoos hidden, for good reason, but soon it would be time to show them. Inguk kept his arm tight around his brother’s narrow shoulders, kept him close, whenever their was a chance. Fate was coming from them.

He trusted Daehyun to save them. “Just the two of us, then. If we have each other, it’ll be okay.” The words of old had become a mantra between the two of them long ago, so deeply embedded in their minds that there was no question. Each would die for the other like true brothers. They were the only thing they had.

The gang’s stupidity grew stronger. They spent thousands on callgirls and drugs, stashed their money in obvious places and were too noisy about their business. Why were his beloved taking so long for their justice? The urge to seek them out would have been too strong if his brother did not hold him back. Inguk’s arm around his shoulders became a constant, physically restraining him from lashing out or pushing the situation along. Sometimes, he found chances to whisper, to convince the member of the gang to do increasingly thoughtless things as if provocation. Their punishment would be worse, but that was no concern of Daehyun’s. He wanted what he wanted and he would get it. He would be with his beloved obsession no matter how much they would need to suffer for him to achieve it.

It was only a week after they held up the club that Daehyun saw a glimpse of hope, of light in the dark. He went outside to get some air, as the gang had filled the house up with the smells of smoke and sex and he was sick of the scent of their sweat. The alley was an escape, against graffiti covered walls where he could breathe and be silent. 

When were they coming?

Daehyun was not patient. He dreamed of them every night, and waited with such eager excitement just to serve. Inguk had grown restless as well. It was time for both of them to leave the fools they found themselves bound to, to escape to the sides of their kings. He was trapped in the everlasting night of this boring existence, waiting for his knights.

A light shone down through the darkness. It was small and white, like the flash of a phone camera. His gaze followed it as it extinguished, and found a white-faced, yellow-masked Matoki staring back at him from the roof. 

They had come. 

Finally, they had come.

The day had come. His day had come. He would prove himself to them. They would want him. They had to want him. He wanted them. He stood still, patient as he waited. He tried to paint himself as the image of compliance. He wanted them to want him. He wanted them to take him as their own.

Daehyun’s heart pounded with so much excitement that he thought he might not be able to breathe and he was so focused on keeping calm that he could not tell if he had managed to fight off his smile or not. All he knew was that the green-masked Matoki he had seen earlier was in front of him. The yellow-masked Matoki appeared not long after.

Their masks were different, which was thrilling. The green-masked Matoki bore tire tracks over parts of his sweatshirt, and his mask had four small spikes. In the center of the mask was the slit in the plastic so he could breathe, with two smaller slits where Daehyun imagined his nostrils would be. The yellow-masked Matoki had a singular slit in his mask, cutting the mask in half and curving upwards like a smile. His hoodie had the pattern of a Court Jester’s collar and he had a small black puff on his nose, like a clown nose. The yellow bunny bore a small device that looked vaguely like a phone, and he stood back and watched it rather than Daehyun and the green bunny.

The green bunny took his arm, gently at first. It was clear he was willing to hurt Daehyun if needed, but Daehyun did not give him any reason to as his arm was raised. The sleeve of his hoodie was pulled up slightly to reveal the checkered black and white bracelet of his brother’s gang but he still remained silent as the green bunny observed it. His wrist was turned in either direction, as if the green bunn expected some deviation in the simple checkered pattern.

In a second, his grip turned painful. He grabbed Daehyun’s wrist with such force Daehyun worried his bones might break and he was yanked forward to stand closer to the green bunny, nearly chest to chest. They were both huge, Daehyun observed. The hand against his wrist did not feel human, not skin covered in cloth but cloth covered in cloth covered in cloth one hundred times over. Daehyun bit his tongue to keep the small yelp inside him. He would not draw attention to them. He would not object to anything they did to him.

They both seemed pleased with him for his reaction, and a soft pat on his head left Daehyun unable to fight of the smile gracing his cheeks. Any coyness, any hope of hiding his wishes, were lost. They knew for sure then, he was a fan. He would be obedient.

The green bunny pointed at the house, then the bracelet. Daehyun nodded. That was their home. When there was no response, he whispered, “that’s where everyone in the gang lives.”

The yellow bunny stepped forward then, showing Daehyun various photos from security cameras on their device—photos of his brother’s gang robbing the club. He, too, pointed at the bracelet. “Yeah, that’s them.” Daehyun breathed, keeping his voice soft. “My brother and I didn’t participate, we aren’t really members.” He pleaded quickly. “I would have stopped them all from ripping you off, but I couldn’t convince them without revealing the club was yours. I would not want to disappoint you in that way.”

The two looked at each other for a moment, before turning back to him. They pulled his sleeve up further and checked under his bracelet. When they did not find what they were looking for, they pulled off his hoodie to examine both of his arms in full.

“It’s on my back.” Daehyun told them. He was proud of himself, for so easily guessing their silent wishes.

He was thrown against the wall stomach first. Again he bit his tongue to stop any noises from escaping him. He choked down the coughs bubbling up in his throat and the excitement bubbling up in his heart. Rough hands pulled his shirt off and Daehyun did not resist in the slightest. Even if their only intention was to see his mark, he still prayed it would lead to more. There was no way to come back from this. Now that he had seen them, even if only two, he had to belong to them. He had to serve them.

He felt them freeze when they saw the image etched onto his back, and wondered if they would kill him for choosing the words ‘Masked Rabbit’ instead of ‘Matoki’.

A shiver ran up his spine as one of them traced the letters with their finger, and then he was being turned and thrown against the wall again, with the green bunny’s hands wrapped around his throat. He closed his eyes, tilting his head up so it would be easier for his treasured killers to kill him. The hands tightened, and he felt the urge to claw at them, to fight and escape. But such foolish animalistic urges were fought down in an instant. If they wanted him dead, he would happily die for them. If he was to be a message to his gang of their impending doom, he would serve his masters dutifully. His life was theirs.

As his vision began to go black, the hands released them. Daehyun collapsed forward, fighting back those coughing sputters again and failing miserably. His head landed on the green Matoki’s broad shoulder and someone ran their hand up and down his bare back until his coughs quieted. “Sorry,” he whispered, but he was met with no response.

He was pushed back against the wall then, with rougher hands then he had faced before. He could not fight of the soft, pleased whimper that escaped him at their cruelty. His mind began to be clouded with the prospect of them beating him to death. A click alerted him to their choice of using a gun instead.

Daehyun stared down the barrel for a couple moments, relaxing his body and then shutting his eyes. He was ready. No gunshot fired. He opened one eye, only to find the yellow Matoki putting his gun away.

When he opened his eyes fully, they pulled him away from the wall. Again, a pat on his head. Daehyun beamed. He was so honored to have been deemed passing of their tests—to be given their praise twice already. It gave him hope that this would not be the last time he was permitted their presence. His heart still pounded with excitement.

The yellow bunny made him raise his arms before redressing him in his shirt, and the green bunny put his hoodie back on him. He felt like their doll. If that is what they wanted of him, he would be it.

When they had finished dressing him, they passed him a small trinket. It was shiny and black, in the shape of their symbol but without the mask. Underneath was a small card that read, “The bearer of this marker has been chosen. Do not lose” and nothing else. Daehyun clutched it tightly to his chest, like a prized possession. “Thank you,” he breathed, with more excitement than he intended.

“My brother,” he spoke without thinking, nervous and impulsive. They waited for him to continue. “He did not participate and he thinks they deserve your punishment as much as I do. He even bears the same mark as me, on his right shoulder. Please, let him live. I-I want to serve you and I will in whatever way pleases you, as a toy or someone to torture or just kill, whatever you want me for I will happily be. If you must kill him, I understand, but plea—” 

A hand over his mouth silenced him. The yellow bunny removed the trinket and the card from his hands and Daehyun felt tears well up in his eyes over how quickly he had ruined his dreams. It was too much to ask for, for both he and his brother to survive.

The yellow bunny showed him the photos of the gang again, his head tilting as if questioning. “No, he’s not in any of those photos,” Daehyun said, “he stayed back with me, out of respect for you.” 

There was a shrug shared between the two Matoki, then, and Daehyun still worried he had lost any chance of serving them by choosing to speak up. He should have known better, but for so long his life had been tied to his brother, losing him now seemed like an impossible nightmare.

The yellow bunny pointed at the words on the card, bringing it close to his face so that he could read it again. Daehyun read it once more and nodded. The card was pointed to once more, then the trinket, and then a finger very firmly pushed into the flesh of his chest. 

_He_ was marked. His brother’s fate was not in his hands. “I understand,” he whispered, with a small bow of his head. The trinket was given to him again and he clutched it tighter than before.

They stepped away from him and he bowed deeply. He wanted them to stay, or to take him with them, but they did not. When they were out of his sight, he collapsed against the wall of the alley, and down onto the ground. The mark was clutched tight to his chest and he could not stop the wide smile that filled his face. He kicked his feet just to try to let out a little more of his explosive happiness. Just a little more patience. He was so close to his dreams.

He kissed the trinket twice before he fully examined its shiny surface. It was small and thin, just a dark piece of plastic with smooth edges which he ran his fingers over. He kissed it again three more times before he stood.

His smile was not hidden as he reentered the house, but the members of the gang were too high to notice. 

Inguk, on the other hand, was immediately aware of his brother’s state and could guess the reason, even if the mark was now hidden within his pocket. He pulled Daehyun into a hug that Daehyun could not understand the reasoning of. “Did you do anything stupid?” Inguk whispered.

“I didn’t,” Daehyun answered with his wide smile and stars in his eyes. It worried Inguk more than anything before. Daehyun had long ago gone down the rabbit hole, there was no way to help him now, other than to guide him through the terror of wonderland.

“Be safe,” Inguk whispered.

“If that’s what they want from me,” Daehyun replied just as soft, but with giddy excitement. His brother thinned his lips but did not object to his words. “The time is almost here, Inguk. Aren’t you excited? Aren’t you thrilled to get to see it? What they’ll do to them? I can’t wait.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanted what he wanted, and he didn't care who had to die in order for him to get it.

Daehyun’s whispers, his provocation, near tripled in size. His gang was like a befuddled group of toddlers, following his whims because he painted them in such a fun light. A night on the town making merry at Matoki clubs would do them well, wouldn’t it? They worked hard. They earned it. Inguk no longer tried to stop his brother from curling up to the other gang members sides and tantalizing or tormenting them into doing as he wished. The Matoki were coming. There was no way to save his foolish brother now.

The next night, they set out to conquer the city, so to speak, with a mission from Daehyun to visit every Matoki club in one night. They would not make it, certainly, but he knew their presence in even one of the clubs would cause enough alarm to his masters to make them work faster.

He wanted them so entirely. His body burned where they had touched them before and he absentmindedly traced over the bruises left on his neck from his near death. Inguk was unhappy. In this situation, he would never be happy. It became worrisome to leave Daehyun alone for more than a couple minutes, and there were very few incidents in which he would.

Daehyun convinced him to leave that night, just briefly. It would be the last time to see any of his friends, certainly, and perhaps arrangements should be made if meeting the mysterious Matoki did not go their way.

As expected, the Matoki came that night. The house was empty except for their loyal servant. The doors were unlocked. He was ready for them.

He amused himself with a shooting game to stave off his impatience. He was starving for their presence. He could not stand to be without them any longer. He wanted them more than anything. It was no concern to him how many people would have to die for him to achieve his goals.

The yellow Matoki came again, but this time it was not the green Matoki to accompany him. Daehyun was thrilled to see someone new, to be allowed the beautiful sight of another. This new Matoki stood taller than any human should, looking unreal with his size. His mask was blue, although instead of the deep blue Daehyun had dreamed of it was a teal color like the sky on a clear day. A circle with a line through it was cut into his mask, as if forbidding him speech, but it was not his mask that was a point of interest.

His cloth ears did not dangle down but were rather propped halfway up. The yellow-masked Matoki’s ears had changed to match this look as well. Nestled between the blue-masked bunny’s ears was a wind-up key, black like his hoodie but metal instead of cloth. The sweatshirt bore a pattern of oil dripping down from the key, down the sides and back of his hoodie until it gathered in a ring of printed drips around his neck like a collar.

As he regarded the blue Matoki, the blue Matoki regarded him. He stepped closer to Daehyun in a manner that made Daehyun unconsciously sank back against the couch. The yellow bunny watched not him but the screen as Daehyun was yanked off the couch by the blue Matoki, who ripped Daehyun’s shirt off and forced him to turn. The actions were rough and careless. It was a reminder of how little importance he held to them, and the fate awaiting him if he disobeyed. It was thrilling. The feeling was addictive.

Again there was a pause as his tattoo was examined, and Daehyun waited with patience to be dressed and praised again.

He was thrown to the ground face first. His hands scraped as he, in his surprise, tried to catch himself. Still, he bit his tongue until it bled to break any noises before the left him. The blue Matoki seemed less pleased with this, and began to kick him. A soft whimper was the first failure to escape him, but it was followed by a hard kick to the same spot. In an instant, a high pitched cry left him, but still he did not move to cover himself or curl.

“Is he sufficient?” A high pitched, robotic voice asked. Daehyun jolted, his attention captured by the yellow Matoki. There was nothing human about that voice. It was synthesized and unreal, carrying no cadence or affect, but rather the cold, calculating uncaring of a robotic killer. The voice was pitched high, with only a few low notes added to the mix. It sounded nearly comedic, cartoony, like the joker the yellow-masked Matoki appeared to be.

“Scream louder,” The blue-masked Matoki ordered, his voice even higher. All of the low notes had been removed, and each syllable was spoken like an independent word. Humanity was removed from their existence, but Daehyun’s desire for them was not dampened.

He was kicked again, and this time he did not hold back his cry. He howled in pain and gripped tight to his bruising stomach. A small whimper sounded shortly after, as he was raised from the ground by the arm and propped up once more on his feet. He was not pat in praise and pleasure, as he had been the day before, and his heart dropped to think he may have disappointed his dearest master with his silence. He could scream louder! He wished to be hit again, just to show.

“He is sufficient,” the words made Daehyun beam.

The blue bunny had seemed to lose interest in him then, but the yellow bunny had begun to watch him more carefully. A pile of darts sat on the table, in the small basket they were always kept in for the dartboard at the end of the room. The yellow Matoki took one absent-mindedly between his gloved fingers. He toyed with it, letting it roll between his fingers, but then held it out for Daehyun to take.

“Hit the bullseye.” The yellow Matoki ordered. Daehyun attempted to look at the dartboard, only for his face to be gripped tightly and turned back to his torturous masters. “Look at me, not the board.” He was ordered.

Daehyun gulped. He stared into the soulless black lenses over his malevolent Matoki’s eyes as he straightened his posture. Preparing for what seemed impossible, Daehyun decided he would rather be beaten then be denied praise for not trying to fulfill the preposterous order. He himself toyed with the dart in his hand, turning it over time and time again as he measured its weight and form.

He threw the dart without looking, and received a brief pat in praise. The two turned their heads then, to observe the results of his blind throw, only to find a bullseye staring them in the face.

The two Matoki looked at each other, and Daehyun smiled at the idea he might have impressed them. Perhaps they would look on him with more fondness now. Perhaps this would be interesting enough to deserve the reward of serving them.

After regarding him carefully a couple moments longer, the yellow Matoki brought out his gun. Rather than simply hand it to him, he put himself behind Daehyun and helped him hold it up. When Daehyun did not make the move himself, the yellow Matoki switched off the safety and cocked the gun for him. “Hit the bullseye.” The order came again, despite Daehyun’s dart damning any chance he had. It sat sitting straight out from the pinpoint bullseye, blocking anything not at an angle from actually hitting the target.

Daehyun took a deep breath. He had always had good aim, perhaps he could hit close?

He shot.

An audible gasp escaped him at the was the plastic tail of the dart was split, and he allowed the yellow Matoki to gingerly pull the gun from his loose fingers as the blue bunny brought it back to them. The tail had curled into three split portions, with the bullet now nestled in the metal of the body and tip. He had hit it head on.

The two Matoki again regarded each other carefully before one pocketed the dart and they went about their business. The yellow Matoki would point out places, and in turn the blue one would use his inhuman height to place something there.

“Bugs and cameras?” Daehyun asked quietly. He wondered if he was overstepping his boundaries by asking, but received no response.

“Follow.” The blue Matoki ordered Daehyun as they left the room, and Daehyun followed them into the kitchen where they continue to set up their tiny bugs and cameras, not visible if you did not know of their presence.

They lead him throughout the house as they placed their monitors. Daehyun occasionally felt it necessary to explain a room’s purpose, say, how this was once a kitchen when the house had been an apartment building, but when the Matoki issued a mandate that all members of a gang must live in the same residence, and any gang who broke that rule would die, they had converted it into a place to cook meth, or another where they store their drugs.

He showed them where money was stashed, where people hid their dirty secrets, and slowly began to divulge more and more as he received vague physical praise for his information — brief pats on the head, a squeeze of the shoulder, one of them holding his hand as the walked between rooms. Daehyun was becoming mush, so pleased at even those small pieces of praise and gratitude.

He etched out who stayed in each room as well, and noted how they indeed put extra cameras and bugs in the room his brother stayed in.

The two brothers had a little old apartment unit to themselves, with most left unchanged except for the lack of locks on the front door. They still cooked in their kitchen, spent time together away from the others in their living room, and each of their bedrooms and bathrooms opened into the apartment instead of the house itself.

Daehyun would like to argue their section was the most bugged, with his own room receiving special attention as well. While it seemed that his brother’s room was mostly focused on what they could hear, in his own they instead put cameras in odd places, with a high number around his bed and shower.

“Are you really that dedicated to seeing me jack off?” Daehyun had asked, before he could think, “because you really don’t need to put in all this effort to see that.” In a moment he froze, to be so forward with his beloved Matoki was wrong. He had been doing his best to be quiet and subservient, but it seemed his true nature was not easy to hide. He was a jokester, boisterous and energetic. A silent prayer went out that they would not be upset with him.

The two regarded him carefully for a long time, or rather that’s what Daehyun assumed they were doing. It was difficult to tell when he could not actually see his real eyes. “Sorry,” he squeaked, looking down.

The blue Matoki pulled him forward by the arm, and then pressed on his back until he bent over. It took him quite a while to process the fact that they were staring at his ass, as if trying to decide if that was what they wanted him for. He was allowed to stand and the two set off to search his room, with Daehyun unsure of the reasoning.

The yellow Matoki began by rifling through his bedside drawers, and the blue Matoki looked in the closet. Soon enough the yellow Matoki found what they were looking for, and Daehyun blushed to see what was being brought out of the drawer.

The two regarded the contents of the box briefly before picking the larger of his two vibrators and placing it on his bed. He was not expecting that sort of reaction.

“Tomorrow, midnight.” The blue Matoki ordered, and then pointed to the small camera they had placed at the edge of his bed. Daehyun nodded in reply. He was more than happy to serve his masters in that way, even pleased at the possibility of showing them some of his many uses. To be with them in that way would be an honor Daehyun could not even believe.

The only honor he could really ask from them that he might deserve was a death by their hands, and the life of a servant that rarely interacted with them was what he expected. To be allowed even a brief sight of their real skin, or to believe they might dedicate even a small part of one day of their immortal lives to watching him was such an unthinkable honor that Daehyun was near giddy in front of him, and he believed from the way they pat his shoulder that they were somewhat amused by his excitement. Perhaps he would prove himself a good enough servant to be allowed to see their faces once. Daehyun did not want to be so hopeful. It would be better to not set himself up for future disappointment.

They went through the rest of the building, marking it with bugs and cameras so every inch and angle would be visible and every word audible. Daehyun was impressed their thoroughness. They were so professional, silent, and prepared. His own gang could not have managed anything remotely as clean as them.

They returned to the main floor, where the two Matoki began to trash the living room they had found him in. They broke the windows and let the shattered glass litter the floor. They threw the TV against the wall and overturned the couch before the blue Matoki picked up the coffee and shattered it on top. Their guns were taken, their belongings broken, and then the blue Matoki approached him and took his arm.

Daehyun watched with interest as a needle was inserted into his arm, and blood began to be drawn from him into a small pouch. When the pouch was full Daehyun did not think it contained more than what they would take at a blood drive, and the blue Matoki used it to right the words ‘Return what you stole or die’ on the wall where the TV once stood. The small amount of extra blood left was spattered about the room and poured into a small bowl they took from the kitchen, as if to look like where they originally kept his blood.

Finally, the yellow Matoki sliced his neck very slightly, and Daehyun could not help the slight hiss that escaped him. The injury this was meant to come from, as if he was not a willing participant in their scheme.

“Will they undress you to care for your injuries?” The yellow Matoki asked, and Daehyun wondered if he’d ever hear anything but that artificial, robotic voice.

“My brother might, but he knows better than to let them see the mark,” Daehyun replied. He was given his shirt and sweatshirt, now spattered with a bit of his blood to redress in. “The others would not. I am not their concern since I am only here as my brother’s brother.”

“Act well.” He was advised, and then the yellow Matoki punched him across the face. The blue Matoki joined in in beating him, and he did not resist as much as he did his best to scream loudly in pain to appease them. They only hit him in places that would be visible, mostly his face and arms but also a couple cuts were made to his neck.

When he had been thoroughly bloodied and become nearly unconscious, he collapsed onto the ground. They pulled him up by the hair and Daehyun, no longer holding back his sounds of pain, released a soft, pleased moan at the treatment. He had done his best to hide the pleasure mixed with the pain they had brought him, but it was impossible when he could not even hold himself up, nor think coherent thoughts.

The two Matoki froze to stare at him. His hair was yanked on again and his pleased moan only came louder. One of them spanked him, lighter than he would have liked, and then harder when he reacted in the same pleased way. “Do you find pleasure in the pain?” The blue Matoki asked him.

“Yeah,” Daehyun barely managed to breathe out, his face flushed red in embarrassment.

“He is definitely sufficient,” The blue Matoki said to the yellow one. Daehyun was thrilled. He was so pleased. Not only would he play such an important role in tricking his gang into their demise, but he had proven himself to be good enough for his malevolent masters.

In an instant, everything went black.

 

Daehyun came to to someone shaking his shoulder, with Inguk’s voice calling his name. “You said he’s alive why are you freaking out so much?” Hyunbin's voice called over his brother’s frantic one.

“Do you know know what this means, you idiot?” Inguk shouted in response. “Do you not realize what you fuckheads did?” Daehyun didn’t want to wake, and struggled to move or open his eyes despite his brother’s desperate attempts.

“We don’t know it was the Matoki for sure.” Joongi answered, nervous and uncertain. “Maybe the club belonged to some other gang. They may be making it look like the Matoki just to scare us into showing up to the meetup.”

He was shushed in an instant, the booming, commanding voice of Jisub silencing it. “Inguk is right. Only the Matoki would have done this, and if it was another gang intimidating them, Daehyun would be the one to know. We need him to wake up and get us answers as soon as possible.”

“Man, I can’t believe they broke the flatscreen.” Ahin said in the distant.

“My brother is lying in a pool of his own blood on the floor, we’re all going to die, and you’re worried about the goddamn TV?” Inguk shouted. “Get the couch back up and knock the splinters off.” It had been a long time since he had heard his brother so frantic, certainly.

The sound of two people heaving and of wood scraping against wood came, followed by a loud thud.

“Come on, Daehyunnie.” Inguk said softly. He lifted his brother carefully and Daehyun felt himself being carried carefully over to where he assume the couch was. A itching began to build up in his throat from being shifted from his side to his back, and when he was placed down to sink into the couch cushions, he found himself turning in an instant to cough heavily. “You’re alright.” His brother whispered softly, rubbing his back. “You’ll be okay.”

“You’re being so fucking gay right now.” Keunsuk whined.

“He could have died, you dumbshit.” Inguk spat. “I swear if the Matoki don’t kill all of you for being dumbasses, I will.”

Daehyun groaned softly when his coughing fit ended. He opened his eyes, briefly appearing dazed and confused before in a moment he was scrambling away from his brother’s hands with a panicked look in his eyes. A pool of blood was spreading on the ground near where his head once was, and he now felt a little of the remainder drip from the corner of his lips. He let himself visibly relax upon seeing their familiar faces.

“What did you guys do?” Daehyun breathed in fear.

“Daehyun, who did this to you?” He flinched away from Jisub's demanding tone.

“What did you dumbfucks do?” He cried louder, before allowing himself to sob hysterically.

Inguk pulled him into his arms, shushing his brother carefully. “Daehyunnie, I know they’re idiots, but we need to know who did this, okay?” His brother’s speech sounded foreign to him, a manner reserved for a time long ago when they would try to avoid getting in trouble by lying. It would be believable to anyone but him. Only he knew the blunt, somewhat angry way his brother always spoke to him.

“Ma… Ma…” Daehyun shook his head like he was afraid to say it.

“It was those bunny eared freaks! I knew it!” Keunsuk shouted. He was shushed with fear of his insult toward the Matoki, but did not respond well. “What? They’re already going to kill us! What worse evil could we do now?”

“Daehyun,” He was surprised when Ahin actually knelt in front of Daehyun and spoke with him in the same delicate voice his brother had. Daehyun had always projected an innocent, childish image around them, and they had lied and claimed he was a minor when they had moved in to keep him away from carnage. The side effect of pretending to be a child was now being treated as one. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” He said. “I’m sorry you got involved in our business and I’m sorry that you must be in a lot of pain right now. But, the situation we’re in right now is really dangerous. We need you to tell us everything that happened with the Matoki.”

Daehyun sniffled and leaned into Inguk’s side. His brother held him tightly, worry beyond his act etched onto his face.

“They…” Daehyun gulped, staring down at his hands. “They came while I was in the kitchen. I ran in when I heard something shatter and I saw them climb through the windows.” He gulped. “The glass, I thought it would cut them but it was like it couldn’t hurt them at all. They threw me over the couch and broke the coffee table over my back.” He gasped, letting tears gather in his eyes.

“Then what?” He was prompted when he did not continue.

“They picked me up and held me upside down. One of the cut into my neck…” he trailed off his hand covering the gash on his neck as he fought back his pretend tears just a little longer. “They held me there and drained the blood out of me into a bowl, I thought I was going to die!” He sobbed. “I don’t remember anything else. They started to hit be again after, but I was so dizzy I can’t remember much.”

He looked up then, and saw the words they had painted in his blood still dripping on the wall. Underneath they had spray painted a day, time, and place in black. Daehyun gasped, letting the sobs overtake him as the gang spoke.

“They’re going to kill us!” Keunsuk shouted.

“Not if we give them back what we took.” Ahin replied. “It says give it all back ‘or’ die, not ‘and’ die! We go, we give them back their stuff, and we get to live.”

“Are you an idiot?” Hyunbin replied. “They’re going to kill us whether we give them back what we took or not! We need to gather all our shit up and run. That’s the only way we’re going to survive this.”

“Clearly you’re the idiot, Hyunbin.” Inguk chimed in. “If we don’t go, we die. They will hunt us down along with anyone we’ve ever known or cared about, torture them in front of us until they’re dead, and then do the same to us! Do you want your mother to die? Your sisters? The only way for us to survive this is to do what they say. At least then, maybe they’ll kill us quickly.”

“Maybe it’s not so bad!” Joongi said, clearly trying to be cheerful. “We can bring them back their stuff and they might even let us live! Then, we just flee the country and go live quiet, safe lives somewhere far away.”

“We’ve used most of what we stole.” Hyunbin replied. “If we give them enough to equal what we took, we’ll be broke. Each of us would have to empty our savings and sell all of our belongings to pay them back.”

“Then that’s what we do.” Inguk said swiftly. “They likely know everything about us. This is the Matoki, they’re more or less gods. So, I don’t know how much you idiots stole but gather that much up, pack it up, and get ready. Two days from now, we go to their drop point. We go there unarmed, compliant, and fucking apologetic, do you understand me? All of us go. No one stays behind. We beg for our lives. If we’re lucky, they let us live.”

“And why would that be better than running again?” Hyunbin asked.

“Inguk’s an outsider, remember.” Jisub chimed in. “We haven’t dealt much with other gangs outside of our suppliers. We don’t know shit. If he’s saying we have to do something, we do it. He’s the only one that knows how to survive this.”

“Can I stay here?” Daehyun asked, his voice soft and afraid as he looked up at his brother.

“No,” Inguk sounded full of sadness and regret. “They know your face now, Daehyun. They’ll expect you to be there and if you aren’t they’ll think we’re trying to pull something.”

“I’m scared.” Daehyun lied.

“I won’t let them hurt you.” Inguk promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who left nice comments on the first chapter <3 I hope you like this one as well!
> 
> Update: I have realized my sins and ret-conned names into this


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations begin for the meeting with the Matoki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay in posting this chapter! I promis I'll update quicker this time! (Tbh, I was writing Home and I got a bit engrossed, now that the story is finished and just being posted, I'll be able to focus on this until it's also done ^^)
> 
> I would like to note that I have realized my sins, and as such ret-conned some names back into the previous chapter.
> 
> Thank you all for reading~ Constructive criticism welcome^^

Inguk sighed as he shut the door behind them. Daehyun was already melting into the couch, a small smile on his face and a happy kick to his feet now that he was out of sight of the rest of the gang. “I’m starting to get jealous.” Inguk whispered as he settled down on the couch. Daehyun lifted his head just long enough for him to sit down, then put it back down on his lap.

“What do you mean?” Daehyun whispered back.

“That’s twice now that the Matoki have singled you out to interact with. I haven’t even gotten to meet them yet.” Inguk began petting his brother’s hair.

“Our masters will show themselves to you when it’s time.” Daehyun promised. “Besides, I’ve liked them for longer.” He stuck his tongue out.

Inguk reciprocated, before settling a little bit more into the couch. “Yeah, well I’ve been alive longer, brat.” After a moment of silence, he hit his brother hard on the arm. “What dumb thing did you do to get them to beat you up like this?” The annoyed tone was back in his quiet voice. “I told you not to do anything stupid.”

“I didn’t!” Daehyun whined. “It wasn’t a punishment; it was a reward!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. They were praising me and everything. I was on my best behavior, and so they rewarded me in the best of ways,” Daehyun murmured. His lips had twitched upward in a smile, and his cheeks flushed a bit. Inguk swore his brother had stars in his eyes when he looked up. “They’ve turned me into their art. They’ve painted me with the most beautiful bruises.”

“My, how far down the rabbit hole you’ve fallen, Alice,” Inguk teased, “if you bleed all over the sheets on your bed or stain the couch, I’ll beat you up too.”

“The masters will be upset if you mar their masterpiece.” Daehyun mumbled.

“I’m sure they’ve interacted with you long enough now to know you need a smack upside the head every now and then.” Inguk grumbled. Daehyun drew patterns on his brother’s leg, and chewed on his lip. “Is there anything we need to do to prepare? We only have a couple of days.”

“I need you to get everyone out of the house tomorrow night. Leave at least ten minutes before midnight, and probably stay out for a couple hours.” Daehyun’s face and neck turned red as he spoke.

Inguk hummed slightly, petting his brother’s hair once again. “Do I want to know why, tomato face?” Daehyun shook his head. “I’ll take them to collect on old debts. I don’t know how they blew through so much money so quickly, but we’ll need more. Our masters deserve full payment in addition to their lives.”

Daehyun opened his mouth to speak, but a knock at the door interrupted him. “Can I come in?” Someone said from outside.

“It’s open,” Inguk replied, after tugging down the bottom hem of Daehyun’s shirt where it had ridden up. “What do you need, Joongi?” He asked.

Joongi closed the door behind him, wiping his hands on his pants as he approached. He settled in the chair across from them. His legs were bouncing, and he fidgeted with the ring around his index finger. “They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?”

Daehyun whined low in his throat, curling closer to his brother.

“If they’re being kind, they’ll just kill us.” Inguk replied. “If you can get Eunji to agree to it, you should go say one last goodbye to her and Jihyun.”

Joongi shook his head. “Her new husband would probably shoot me on sight, and she’s said she doesn’t want me around now that Jihyun’s getting old enough to remember things.” He stopped fidgeting with his ring for a moment to pinch himself. He was blinking excessively. “I didn’t— we didn’t know it was their club! How were we supposed to— they have to understand, right? We didn’t mean to— and we don’t have enough money left to— Eunji, she— She has to understand, right? She’d let me, wouldn’t she? Just— Just one last time, to say good bye. I know she wants me out of her life, but—”

“You should have a cigarette,” Daehyun suggested.

Joongi kept twitching. “I’m trying to quit. I’m— Well, fuck it, really. Does it matter anymore?” He leaned down, suddenly, holding his head in his hands. “My head hurts. What do we do?”

“You all never collect on the shits that stiff you.” Inguk replied. “I’ll take Hyunbin, Ahin, and Keunsuk to hit up your old neighborhood, you take Jisub and Seungwon and get it done ‘round here. If we go out around 11:30pm tomorrow and put a couple hours of work in, we can probably shake enough people down to make it back up.”

“They’ll still kill us.” Joongi groaned. He rubbed his eyes until they were a bit red, nearly watering, then went back to bouncing his legs and fidgeting with his ring.

“Yeah, but maybe they’ll leave Eunji and Jihyun alone. Maybe they’ll even let Daehyun go, if we’re lucky.” Inguk replied. Daehyun let out another whine, and Inguk rubbed his back gently, until Daehyun winced.

“They wouldn’t hurt Jihyun, would they?” Joongi shouted. His eyes went wide and all motion in his body stopped. “They wouldn’t— She’s— She’s not even five years old yet! I know the Matoki are a lot of things, but they aren’t child murderers, are they?” He began to shake. “And Daehyun— he’s— you’re only fifteen! They couldn’t— They wouldn’t—” His lips trembled and his hands shook as he covered his face with them.

“You’re saying that they couldn’t possibly harm a minor while my  _ sixteen _ year old brother is still bleeding after what they did to him.” Inguk pointed out. 

“Maybe they didn’t realize—” Joongi’s voice shook.

“The Matoki know everything,” Inguk cut him off. “What part of ‘gods’ are you not understanding? They’ve been alive a hundred years, nothing can kill them— hell, nothing can even hurt them— and they’ve never, ever been found out. They aren’t human, Joongi. They’re wrathful gods, who know everything about you and are more than willing to destroy everything you love in front of you just to make you suffer. They knew he was sixteen, and they know about your family too.”

Joongi sat there, twitching, blinking, shaking, and chewing on his lip for nearly a minute. “What if I get one of those tattoos?”

“What tattoos?” Inguk asked.

“I’ve heard— People are weird, right? And— fans get a tattoo, don’t they? Like, fans of the Matoki— whatever’s wrong with them to make them like— but they get the tattoo right? It’s like— It’s their symbol, isn’t it? The one they write in blood— that they’re going to write with our blood, oh god! But— But, it’s a thing, isn’t it? You get the tattoo and— Well, I don’t know. I’ve only heard— I mean, I’ve definitely heard that they take the people with the tattoo as servants.” Joongi’s breaths were irregular. He scrunched his eyes shut, then opened them again, blinking rapidly.

“Do you know what happens to servants of the Matoki, Joongi?” Inguk asked.

“They live?” Joongi guessed.

“If you can call it that,” Inguk replied. “I’ve only known two idiots so far down that rabbit hole as to think that was a good idea before. You’re not going to live some sweet life eating cakes and chasing rabbits, buddy. You become their toy. They’re our gods, but they’re cruel ones. They’ll break you apart, cut you into bits, and beat you within an inch of your life, and then they’ll let you heal and do it all over again. Their servants are those that they can harm as freely and for as long as they please, in the most twisted sort of entertainment.”

“Then why would anyone get the tattoo at all?” Joongi asked.

“Because some poor, twisted saps see their marks as art. They see the contorted bodies they leave in alleyways and dream that they could be that beautiful. Fanatics, Joongi, don’t have much sense to them. If you have their mark, they’ll just torture you, and probably your family, until you die.”

“Please, Inguk, you have to understand. With your brother here, with all of this going on, you have to—”

“I have to what?” Inguk growled. “I have to understand that you idiots not only killed yourselves, and you not only killed me, but you killed my kid brother too? That you all left him black and blue bleeding out because you couldn’t resist the idea of feeling like big boys robbing a club? Why didn’t you go for something safer, like a shop or a bank?” He shouted. “I have to understand that a family that abandoned you  _ might _ get hurt, when my brother will definitely end up dead? What does that really matter, though? Ahin seems to think the TV is more important.”

Daehyun whined and sobbed until his brother pulled him into a hug, rocking them side to side. “I don’t want to die.” He cried. Inguk shushed him.

“You have to understand,” Joongi started again, “that I’m looking for anything, anything at all that can keep them safe— Eunji, Jihyun, Daehyun, too! Hyunbin’s old lady, Keunsuk’s wife, Jisub’s siblings, everyone! You— You’re the one that’s supposed to know this stuff, Inguk. Please— please tell me there’s a way, at least, to just make it be us. If we’re going to die, we’re going to die,  but not your brother, not my wife— ex-wife, not my daughter too! Isn’t there anything?” He was pulling on his hair as his body shook, and occasionally wiped his hands over his face.

“Now you see why it’s important to pay them back in full.” Inguk replied. “Everything you all took needs to be returned with interest. No guns, no knives, and absolutely no funny business. If we’re good, only we die. If you all try to pull something on them, we watch our loved ones be tortured to death in front of us, and then they torture us to death afterwards. I know for a fact that Hyunbin or Seungwon will try to pull something, so you’ve got to help me keep them in line. If you don’t, Eunji and Jihyun die too.”

“Yes, Sir.” Joongi breathed. “I’ll help you keep them all in line. I’ll answer to you now, instead of Jisub. If you can promise me they won’t hurt my daughter, I’ll do everything you say.”

“Gather the others downstairs.” Inguk replied. “Tell them the plan for tomorrow night and convince them that they need to be on their best behavior. When Seungwon gets back tomorrow morning, fill him in on everything and get him in on the plan. I need to take care of Daehyun, so don’t come back here tonight.”

“Understood.” Joongi’s speech went quiet, and he was out of the room soon after.

“You need to work on your acting.” Inguk hissed once he was sure Joongi was far enough away. He smacked Daehyun on the head. “You should have started crying way earlier than that.”

“It takes me a bit to work up tears, okay?” Daehyun whined.  “Besides, you’re one to talk. I thought I was still fake fifteen! We haven’t faked a birthday yet.”

“Why would they celebrate your birthday?” Inguk replied, “you’re 23 years old, Daehyun, you definitely can’t pass for fifteen anymore.” They went silent for a couple moments. “Which of my coats did they bug? I’ll wear that one tomorrow.”

“How do you know there are bugs in here?” Daehyun asked.

“Because I’m not an idiot,” Inguk replied.

“The green one you usually wear,” Daehyun mumbled. “Everyone else got all of their shirts bugged, so you won’t have to worry about them.” When he looked up at Inguk, he was pouting.

“Cheer up,” Inguk said, rubbing his brother’s back, “soon we’ll be where we belong, with our masters.” He could not help but mimic the smile that spread across Daehyun’s face. 

 

Daehyun took a deep breath as he wandered back into his room with an old, ratty towel from the linen closet down the hall. He was quick in spreading it over his bed, then turned to his nightstand. From the bottom drawer, he pulled out the shoebox he kept his few toys in. His face turned a little red. 

He gulped. He had thrown the vibrator they told him to use in there earlier to keep his brother from seeing it, but with only two things in the box, it was not hard to find. It was then that he noticed the remote, which was meant to clip onto the end when the toy wasn’t in use, was missing. “Where did it go?” Daehyun asked in a sudden panic. Despite the box being near empty, he flipped the contents around to try to find the remote. In a hurry, he searched under the bed, through his blankets and sheets, and in every drawer of his nightstand. 

It wasn’t until he had torn his whole room apart searching in vain that he gave up, and quickly neatened everything as midnight approached. “Oh no,” he kept repeating under his breath. “Masters will be disappointed. Masters will be unhappy.” He worried.

He took his other toy out for a moment, just to consider it as an option. It turned out to be useless when the remote for that one was missing as well. “Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck!” He groaned, louder and frustrated.

He scrunched his eyes shut, and forced himself to take a deep breath. “It’s okay. I’ll still give my precious masters a show, and if they wish for more they can just have their fun with me later,” he told himself, “There’s no reason to assume they intended for me to use the remote in the first place. It might even make a better show to watch it going in and out.”

He calmed himself and sat on the bed, fidgeting with the end of his shirt as he waited for midnight. His phone buzzed when it was time, and he was quick to shut the alarm off.

He trembled slightly as he pulled his shirt off. His fingers ran over his own torso and through his hair, not because it was stimulating, but because he thought it would look good for the camera. After a moment, he stood and pulled off the rest of his clothing, before settling back on the bed.

He paused, briefly, and chewed on his bottom lip, eyes flickering to the end of his bed where the camera was. He couldn’t see it, but he knew they had placed it there. 

Suddenly, as if without thought, Daehyun wrapped his hand around his erection and stroked it until he was hard. A low groan escaped him when he released his hold in favor of sticking three fingers in his mouth. It was difficult to know if what he was doing looked good, but he tried to mimic what he would do if he was giving a blowjob as he slicked his three fingers up with spit.

Daehyun flipped himself over then, so that he was balanced on one arm and his knees, the other hand reaching back to ring around his hole. “Mm,” he whined, but did not press his finger in right away. When he did, a loud hiss escaped him. Even if it stung, he did not stop.

Perhaps his masters were not as interested in this part, so he tried to stretch himself quickly. He whined, low in his throat and pained, as he pressed in the second finger too soon, but rocked himself back and forth on the both anyway. He scissored his fingers with a keen, then pressed the third in. His groan was more pain than pleasure, and he paused to let himself adjust to the stretch.

Once he began moving his hand again, he did not find it hard to find his prostate. Pressing into it, he cried out. He gulped, and pressed his fingers in and out, bumping against it each time with a desperate moan.

Something buzzed. Daehyun froze. At first, he thought he had hallucinated it, but then, before his very eyes, his vibrator buzzed again. “But I lost the remote?” He mumbled.

It vibrated in short pulses for a couple seconds.

“Master?” Daehyun asked. He felt a little bit ridiculous to be talking to a dildo, but less ridiculous in thinking that the undefeatable monsters he worshipped were able to boost the signal on the remote enough to use it from afar.

It buzzed again, this time long and singular.

“Master wants to play with me?” He asked. A small, elated smile crossed his lips. The vibrator buzzed another long, singular buzz. “I’m honored, Master.” Daehyun breathed.

His cheeks, neck, and the top of his chest had flushed pink, and his hands trembled a bit as he took what he assumed was the instruction he was being given. He quickly lubed up the vibrator, and then slowly pressed it inside himself. A long groan escaped him as he pressed it in, only to turn high-pitched when the vibrator switched on.

It turned up suddenly, and then it proceeded to turn up again every minute or so until it was on its highest setting. Daehyun let out loud, breathy gasps and whines as his legs and arms trembled underneath him. “Ma— Master, like this it’ll be too fast,” he tried to whine. The setting was not turned down. He reached for himself, certain that they must be determined to finish him off quickly so they could continue about their business. It switched off.

Daehyun let out a desperate, high-pitched whine, and shook slightly as he removed his hand from his weeping length. “I’m sorry, Master,” he breathed. “I was naughty. When you see me next, will you punish me?” He smiled a little, even if his face was away from the camera they were watching. They had put them all around his bed, after all. 

The vibrator turned on to a low hum, and Daheyun whined. “Please, Master,” he begged, “I promise I’ll be good, just please. Please give me more. I’ll do anything you want me to, Master.” The end of his sentence turned into a shout as the virator jumped back up to it’s previous speed, shaking him from the inside out. His arms began to tremble so weakly beneath him that he stretched them out on the bed and laid his cheek against the towel.

“Master— Master, I’m going to come.” He moaned, but he was met with no relief. It was barely a minute later that he released, cum splattering up his chest, but the toy inside him did not so much as lower its intensity.

He rolled onto his back as his whole form shook, and desperate, nonsensical begging left his lips as the toy continued to to work inside him. The overstimulation was as painful as it was pleasant, but he did not move to take the toy out. “Master, please,” he begged. His moans went from subdued and pained to loud and needy, and back again, as he shifted on the bed. Eventually, he ended up laying in a way that caused the toy to press directly into his prostate, with his legs spread and his full body on display.

He continued to beg, but was given no relief and no breaks from the toy working inside him for hours. Tears stung at his eyes and his body turned to jelly, unable to move. His lips trembled as he cried out again and again, with cum splattering up his torso in layers upon layers. He gripped at the sheets and writhed, but there was no relief from the painful pleasure.

Not long after his voice had given out, Daehyun grew dizzy. The toy continued to work inside him, bringing him to yet another orgasm that was more pain than pleasure, as if had been since his fourth that night. Black spots floated through his vision as it built up, and with his release he let out one last silent cry, and then passed out.

He came to about twenty minutes later, to find the toy had been turned off and his body was stiff. He sat up and immediately gripped his head from the dizziness. It was impossible to move again until it faded.

Daehyun stood on unsteady legs that trembled beneath him as he forced himself to bring the towel to the washing machine and throw it in. Once that was running, he dragged himself back to his bathroom to clean himself. He leaned against the wall as he went, not fully able to support his own weight. He made it into the shower before his legs gave up on him. He sat collapsed on the bathroom floor, convinced that in only a couple minutes he would have the energy to stand and wash himself.

With Daehyun’s next conscious moment, he found that it was daylight, and he had been washed, dried, dressed, and tucked into his bed. The clothes he was wearing were not his own, nor did he think they were his brother’s. He gulped. “How much of a mess was I when Inguk found me?” He wondered aloud. Coughing took over his entire being for several minutes, and when he finally managed to sit up, he noticed a small glass of water on his nightstand. At first, he thought he should call out to thank his brother, only to notice the small charm sitting next to it, with a card on top.

The charm was a pink version of the Matoki symbol he had been given before, and his heart raced with excitement and confusion.

“Give your black marker to your brother. Keep this one for yourself. You’ve earned both of your lives.” A blushing smile filled his face.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally his dreams were in grasp, but at what cost? At what risk? It could very well be the beginning of something he had never dreamed.

“Remember to keep the act up for as long as possible. We do not know our Masters’ plans, and so we should not reveal ourselves to the others until told to do so,” Inguk had whispered to his brother as they prepared to leave. “And don’t do anything stupid,” he had hissed right before they left. He had hit Daehyun over the head lightly as a warning.

That had been nearly an hour beforehand. The drive to the warehouse they were meeting in was long and winding, pulling them far away from familiar streets and into the edges of the city. The stood in an uneasy line in the center of the warehouse. Ahin tapped his foot and looked around with a blank expression. Keunseuk kept checking his watching. Joongi was playing with his ring again, shaking and chewing on his lips as well. Jisub was on his ninth cigarette. Daehyun had been counting.

One of the large metal doors to the warehouse opened on its own and a large black van with obscured windows drove in. It roared to a stop, it’s engine filling the spaces their anxiety had left. Daehyun stood closer to his brother in order to obscure his expression.

“You’ll be alright, Daehyun,” Inguk assured, his voice just loud enough for the others to hear. “I’ll protect you.”

Jisub sighed, “don’t lie to him now. There’s no point anymore. Daehyun, we’re all fucked. Hope for a quick death.” Daehyun whimpered, high-pitched, and curled his hands in the fabric of Inguk’s hoodie. Even if he could not see, he could imagine the annoyed expression he was sending Jisub.

“Aren’t you excited?” Daehyun whispered, so low Inguk struggled to hear, “our masters have finally come for us. Is it not the best day of your life?”

Inguk did not have time to reply before the engine was cut and the Matoki stepped out. Five Matoki stood before them. Each stood with their ears straight above their heads, which raised their inhuman heights.

Daehyun had to hide his face to keep his elation from being know again, so pleased to be graced with the sight of the final two: red and hot pink. Again their masks and hoodies were different. The red Matoki had army patterns on his hoodie and a mask that looked like a gas mask more than anything else. The pink one had drawings covering his hoodie and a mask that resembled the one used as the Matoki symbol, with six centered dots in two vertical rows of three.

The blue and green Matoki split off from the pack, circling around the others to stand behind the line made up of Jisub’s gang. There was an uneasy silence between them, until Jisub took a small step forward and spoke. “We’ve brought you back everything we took, or replacements as necessary.”

It was silent for a near minute before the pink Matoki spoke, his voice more middle pitched than the two Daehyun had heard before, but equally robotic. “You,” he pointed to Inguk, who stepped forward, “pat the others down. Remove any weapons. Once all are confiscated, bring them here.”

“Yes, Sir,” Inguk replied. He took a step toward Jisub only to be stopped.

“Don’t forget the one hiding behind you,” the yellow Matoki warned.

“Yes, Sir,” Inguk replied, and turned to Daehyun, who spread his arms willingly for his brother to check for nonexistent weapons.

“A-About him,” Ahin spoke up, “Daehyun— the hiding one— he’s not one of us. He’s just Inguk’s kid brother. And, by kid brother, I really do mean _kid_ brother. He was only fifteen when they moved in a couple of months ago. He’s had nothing to do with any of our business. I mean Inguk won’t even let him near guns, and—”

“Quiet,” The pink Matoki ordered. “Dada,” the command was never fully ordered, but nonetheless Daehyun was grabbed by the green Matoki and thrown to the ground away from the others. He cried out in pain when he was kicked in the stomach, and then laid still and whimpered. He was pulled up to be kneeling by the green Matoki, and hid well how pleased he was with himself for working up tears so quickly.

“Any bad behavior from any of you will result in his pain,” the yellow Matoki replied. “Now, finish checking them for weapons,” he instructed Inguk.

Inguk pat down Jisub and Ahin quickly, finding nothing on either of them. Then, he stepped toward Keunseuk, only for Keunsuk to try to step away. “Don’t touch me, man, that’s gay,” Keunseuk said, his eyebrows furrowing.

Inguk yanked him back by the wrist, before turning to the three bunnies at the front. “Can I punch him?” He asked, exasperation in his tone. Keunseuk tried to yank his arm away several times, but failed.

“Shoot him in the foot,” the blue Matoki ordered in his high pitched voice.

Inguk yanked Keunseuk around until he could properly pat him down. Keunseuk only had one gun on him, in the back of his jeans, which Inguk quickly cocked and used to shoot him in the foot.

Keunseuk screamed, hopping around on one foot while holding the other as blood poured out of it. “What the fuck?” He cried.

“He told me to,” Inguk replied.

“I meant the other foot,” the blue Matoki said. Inguk shrugged and shot Keunseuk in the other foot as well.

He left Keunseuk to roll around on the ground, clutching both of his feet as he cried in pain. Daehyun gulped. He was trying his best to hide his smile, eventually needing to lower his head and cover his mouth in order to keep it from being noticeable. From behind him, careful as if to keep the gang members from seeing, the green Matoki toyed with his hair.

Seungwon was next, surprisingly calm and stoic. Under his breath, he tried to whisper, “leave my knife and one of my guns with me,” to Inguk.

“You want me to leave your knife and one of your guns with you?” Inguk parroted. “So that then they can get mad at me when you think that you might have a shot in hell of actually hurting them. Then, they kill my brother because of our insubordination? Great fucking plan,” he forcibly patted down Seungwon then, removing three guns and a knife that had been strapped to his ankle.

“Shoot him in the foot,” the blue Matoki ordered. Inguk didn’t even hesitate to do so. Seungwon ended up on the floor, screaming and crying as much as Keunseuk was.

“H-How… How can you— you’re so calm!” Joongi accused as Inguk came to pat him down next. His whole body was shaking. His lips were bleeding from how much he had bit them. “They’re— I know they’re dicks but— just… just shooting Keunseuk and Seungwon like it’s nothing? I— They’re our friends! And— and Daehyun, he’s— Your brother’s going to die and— why aren’t you upset?” He had no weapons, so Inguk moved on without answering.

“If you touch me, I’ll shoot you.” Hyunbin told Inguk when he came forward. Inguk ignored him. “If you touch me, I’ll shoot Daehyun.” Inguk hesitated, then continued forward.

“He’s annoying,” the yellow Matoki observed.

“Agreed. Beat him up. If you show enough skill, we might let you and your brother live,” the pink Matoki ordered.

Inguk put the weapons he had confiscated to the side, then sucker punched Hyunbin before the other had a chance to raise his hands. Inguk kneed him in the stomach then, and continued to hit him until he was on the ground. “Should I keep beating him up, or knock him out?” He asked.

“A solid kick to the stomach, and then knocking him out will do,” the pink Matoki replied. Inguk followed suit, before removing the weapons from Hyunbin’s unconscious form and grabbing the pile of other confiscated weapons. “Bring them here,” he was instructed, and so he walked forward, slow as he fumbled to make sure all of the weapons were facing him.

“Why are you so calm?” Joongi asked. He flinched at the sound of his own voice. He started pulling on his hair again.

“Today’s been pretty good so far, actually.” Inguk replied as the Matoki were unloading his arms of the weapons. “I got to shoot Keunseuk and Seungwon, something I’ve been wanting to do since I first met them. Fuck, I even got to shoot Keunseuk twice for keeping up his fucking homophobic bullshit all the time, even after I told him my brother was gay. And I got to punch Hyunbin. It’s always a good day when I get to punch Hyunbin.”

“But you and your brother are going to die,” Jisub cut in.

“Show us the charm,” the pink Matoki ordered. Inguk pulled the black matoki symbol he had gotten from Daehyun out of his hoodie pocket and gave it to them. “The mark on your shoulder, now. Us first, then show everyone else.”

“Yes, Master,” Inguk’s face twisted into the same face some had seen on his brother before, and he pulled off his jacket to reveal the tattoo on his shoulder, ‘Masked Rabbit’ written under their symbol. Once they had seen, he turned to show the rest of the room, smiling a bit more at the shocked gasps.

“You’ve served your purpose well,” the yellow Matoki complimented. The compliment came with a gun pressed to Inguk’s chest.

Inguk did not flinch, and Daehyun, too, sat perfectly calm. “Thank you, Masters,” he breathed, “it would be an honor to die by your hands.”

“Not yet.” The yellow Matoki replied. He pulled the gun away from Inguk’s chest and instead pushed it into his hands. “You still have use. Go stand in the back and keep them all from trying to run. If any do, shoot them in the foot.”

“Happily, Master,” Inguk replied, and then walked to the back of the room, passing between Keunseuk and Seungwon who were still rolling on the ground.

“Him then,” the pink Matoki pointed to Daehyun, motioning him to stand. “They won’t try to fight you, would they? They have some semblance of morals. Grab all of the payments they have brought us and bring them here.”

Daehyun gulped as he stood, a frown on his face. He did not want to leave the side of the green Matoki. He did not want the green Matoki to stop playing with his hair.

Still, he obeyed. He quickly gathered the various duffle bags and brought them to the pink Matoki. “He’s being shier than normal,” the yellow Matoki observed. “Normally, he would be beaming now just from our acknowledgement.”

“It’s because he’s jealous of his brother. We ignored him at first, didn’t we? From what you said, he probably wanted all of our attention on him from the start. Or perhaps it’s because he was naughty, and he knows he’s in trouble,” the pink Matoki replied. Daehyun’s face lit up. “Or because he thought we didn’t watch,” the pink Matoki changed his answer.

“Or all three, Master,” Daehyun murmured. His face was turning pink like his master’s mask.

“Daehyun, not you too?” Ahin asked. “He’s just a kid!”

“Show us, then them,” the yellow Matoki instructed. “The marker first. You certainly worked hard to earn it.”

Daehyun pulled the pink Matoki shaped charm from his pocket and passed it to them. His face grew redder. Then he pulled off his sweatshirt, turned his back to them, and pulled of his shirt. He felt their fingers running across the mark on his back.

“How long have you had it?” The pink Matoki asked.

“Since I was fifteen.” Daehyun replied.

“There seems to be some confusion among these idiots you were stuck with. Tell them how old you are now,” the yellow Matoki instructed.

“I’m 23,” Daehyun replied, looking Ahin dead in the eye. The Matoki pushed and pulled him until he was facing them again, and he stood still as the gang gaped at the tattoo on his back. “We lied because Inguk doesn’t like it when I’m near guns.”

“He’ll have to tolerate it now. Take that,” the yellow Matoki spoke while the red Matoki handed him a gun. “Pick the one who deserves the kindest punishment.” He was instructed.

“Joongi,” he pointed at the nervous man with the gun.

“Shoot him right between the eyes.” He was ordered. Daehyun paused just for a moment. “I know that must seem like the cruelest punishment to you, but for them it is the kindest,” the pink Matoki said.

So, Daehyun did so. Joongi straightened before Daehyun shot. He stopped playing with his ring. He stopped tapping his foot. He stopped pulling at his hair. He stopped shaking. He almost looked thankful. Then, the bullet fired, and Joongi looked very, very dead.

The blue and green Matokis moved quickly, one flipping a switch and the other grabbing the ropes that were lowered as a result. The strung Joongi up by his feet and put a basin below him to catch the blood. Then, they cut deep gashes along his corpse’s body to quicken the blood flow.

Ahin and Jisub stared at him in shocked terror, but not for long before they were knocked out. That left Inguk and Daehyun as the only conscious gang members left. The blue and green matoki were working quickly then, taking care of Seungwon and Keunseuk so they would not die of blood loss.

The yellow Matoki took the gun back from him. “You still need to be punished for misbehaving,” he said. Daehyun nodded. The gun was pressed to his forehead.

Just like every other time they had threatened to kill him, Daehyun’s response was to relax his body, close his eyes, and wait. Sadly, that was not Inguk’s response. “No!” He shouted suddenly, running toward the pair. When Daehyun opened his eyes, he found the green Matoki had grabbed his brother before he could get far, and had knocked him out. When he looked back to the others, he found the gun had been put away.

The red Matoki finally spoke, in a robotic voice much lower than any of the others. “Conclusions: Daehyun has proven he believes his fate belongs to us, has proven his worth as a toy or pet and possibly as Keke, has proven his willingness to follow orders, and has proven he will not object even when his loved ones are about to be harmed.”

It went silent for about a minute. “He will stay alive,” the red Matoki eventually said. “Inguk has proven he believes his fate belongs to us, has proven his worth as a hitman or other underling, has proven his willingness to follow orders, but has failed to accept he has no say in the fate of his brother.”

It went silent for much longer, and Daehyun waited anxiously to hear the fate of his brother. “Will you be upset if we kill him?” The pink Matoki asked him.

“I cannot say I wouldn’t be sad if he were dead,” Daehyun replied softly, “because he is my brother and he’s important to me. But, I wouldn’t object, and I wouldn’t be upset with you if you killed him. A death by your hands is an honor, and it would be truly a blessing for my brother to be honored in such a way.”

They were silent for a long time again, before the five seemed to move on their own accord, with no spoken words between them. The three standing toward the van began to fetch coffin-like boxes from inside, while the green Matoki began carrying bodies over. The blue one began painting the matoki symbol with the blood they had taken from Joongi along with a stencil. Daehyun stood out of the way and watched as he did so, painting six matoki symbols on the ground, but omitting the two meant for Inguk and Daehyun.

Once the bodies were packed away in the boxes, including Joongi’s corpse; the boxes were put in their van; and their symbol had been painted six times for the six lives they had taken, their attention turned to him.

A small, black bag was brought out, and pulled over his head. His hands were zip-tied together and something metal was wrapped around his neck and wrists. Then, he was picked up, brought into the van, and strapped into a highly restrictive seat.

 

The pink Matoki was the one to pull the bag off his head, after hours of driving, and several minutes walking from wherever the van had been parked to wherever he was sitting then. The room was small and poorly lit, with no windows and a singular door. He had been placed down on a lumpy, uncomfortable bed with yellowing sheets. There was nothing else in the room.

They had not removed the metal from his wrists or his neck, and Daehyun spent a moment or two staring at the shiny, thick bracelets as the zip-ties binding his wrists together were cut off with a knife.

“This is where you will stay for now,” the pink Matoki told him. “Do not to leave without one of us. Do not to try to escape. And, most of all, do not try to remove the metal from your wrists or your neck. It keeps you hidden from the cameras.”

“Yes, Master,” Daehyun replied, his voice soft and subservient. “May I ask how I will serve you, Master?”

“I think you can already guess, pet,” was the reply. “It would be preferable for all of us to speak with you at once, but we have your friends to prepare and your brother to deal with.” Daehyun opened his mouth to speak, but the Matoki spoke before he could. “You are going to ask about your brother’s fate.”

“If I may, Master,” Daehyun mumbled.

“We will let him live,” the Matoki said, “on the condition that he behaves himself. However, he will have limited access to you, and you will pay for any mistakes he makes. I somewhat doubt we could think of a punishment you would not enjoy, but when you are sent to him in a couple of hours, you must convince him that we have.”

“I can do that,” Daehyun affirmed, “thank you so much, Master. I was so sure you would kill him. While I wouldn’t object, I still would be sad if he died.”

The pink Matoki gripped his face and brought it close. “I hope you realize, pet, that he is only alive because we don’t want to make you sad.” Daehyun’s face burned. He thought he could hear a more human-like voice from the suit, hidden in the edges of the robotic one.

“I’m so honored, Master,” Daehyun replied. When his face was released, a smile quickly took it.

“I’ll go help with the others, then,” the pink Matoki said. “You are to read this and follow it’s instructions while I am gone.” He was passed several sheets of paper and a black pen, then the Matoki left the room.

“There are three choices from which you may pick,” Daehyun read. “Any decision you make will be final. It is to be noted that we will be disappointed if you pick the first. A) You may join the other servants as a plaything, to be hung by your hands and tortured, nothing else. This is usually the only option, but you are special. If you pick this option, you will not see us frequently, you will not be treated kindly, and you will never know us beyond pain.”

He took a deep breath, and continued to read aloud. It was easier to think that way. “B) You will remain in the underground, and will never know us beyond our masks. You will be permitted to watch us work when we wish you to, and may request to be tortured as much as you’d like. C) You will spend the first couple of weeks with us living through option ‘B’. If you prove your loyalty and obedience, then we may offer to take you upstairs. You will be allowed to see our faces and live with us as our pet and/or toy. You still may be tortured if you request it, or watch us work when appropriate, but your main duties will be different. When selecting this option, you are agreeing to offer not only physical and emotional support, but also sexual services, housework when requested, and general request fulfillment.”

That pleased smile and bright blush covered Daehyun’s face again, and he kicked his feet around in happiness. Unable to contain himself, he even let out a small cheer of excitement. His heart was pounding. He wanted them.

The following pages were a guide to option C, beginning with a series of checkboxes Daehyun was meant to agree to for option C. If he could not agree to even one, he was not permitted to choose that option. This included him promising his willingness to: have restricted and monitored movement around the house, wear a collar that might aid in said restriction, allow the Matoki to implant various GPS trackers at unknown points in his body, follow the rules and requests given to him by the Matoki without the slightest deviation, consent to being punished for breaking the rules, and to refuse to say anything about the Matoki to anyone, ever. There were about five more at the bottom, requiring him to affirm that he would be honest about how willing he was to do something, be honest about the status of his comfort level with something, be clear and honest about whether or not he was consenting at all times, etc. It then went into a lengthy paragraph of how, while he was expected to provide sexual services, he was also required to inform them when he was not consenting, and that he would not be punished for doing as such.

The following pages were simply a list of possible kinks, of which he was meant to do several things to. Namely, he was meant to cross out anything he was not interested in, star his favorites, and circle the ones he had not done before, but was interested in trying.

Daehyun did not hesitate to pick option C, and follow through with the rest of the paperwork. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears. His smile did not falter in the slightest. When he was finished, he rolled around on the bed, giggling in glee.

It took an hour for one of the Matoki to come for him. That time, it was the red one. “Have you decided?” He was asked.

Daehyun was still beaming. “I want to do the third option, Master,” he replied. He received a couple of pats on the head and blushed in response. “If I may, Master, I’m a bit surprised you just have formal paperwork for this stuff laying around.”

The red Matoki went silent. Seconds ticked on the clock on the wall as Daehyun’s smile faded with nervousness. He gulped, and opened his mouth to apologize, only to be cut off by the red Matoki. “We don’t, usually,” The red Matoki said, “Joko got anxious last night that we would assume something we shouldn’t or forget to tell you something, so he wrote it all down. He gets formal when he’s nervous.”

“That’s adorable,” Daehyun breathed.

The red Matoki took the papers from him, and then lead him down the hall to another, with a one-way window through which he could see his brother sitting on a similar looking bed. The red Matoki gave him instructions on what to say, and made Daehyun recite all of the information twice before he sent him into the other room.

Inguk didn’t speak when Daehyun first walked through the door. After a hesitant moment, he gulped, and offered a small smile. “I see we’re both alive,” he said.

“So long as you behave,” Daehyun replied. “For all the time you spent telling me not to do anything dumb, you went and broke one of the most basic rules.”

“They were going to kill you,” Inguk said.

“My life is theirs to take, whenever and however they please. I belong to them, just like you. We’re property, that’s what the tattoo means. You know that. You signed up for that when you got the mark. They are our gods, Inguk. We don’t object, and we don’t disobey,” Daehyun insisted.

“I know,” he replied. “I wasn’t thinking. I just— I’ve been in charge of keeping you safe since Mom died, it’s instinct now. Even if it’s them, I don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.”

Daehyun straightened slightly. He looked away. “I guess that’s good for them, then. I’m nothing to them, but you’re worth something. They really would have just shot me like I was as pathetic and useless as Joongi if you hadn’t objected,” he fidgeted as he lied. “They did their research. They know your hitman work, talked to previous employers, learned everything about your abilities. Finding people with actual skills like you among the mindless sheep like me is difficult, according to them. It benefits them to be able to use you.”

“So they won’t kill you?” Inguk asked.

“If you behave,” Daehyun repeated, “they’ll let me live. I’ll stay here in a cell, unable to leave, but they won’t harm me. If you do anything against them or break any rule given to you, I will be punished in your place. If you do anything even moderately bad, I’ll be tortured in front of you. I’ll be killed if you really fuck up.” His voice went quiet.

He sniffled, letting tears boil up in his eyes. “Daehyun—” Inguk breathed, “I’ll keep you safe. I’m your big brother, it’s my job.”

“I’m scared of what they’ll do to me if you break the rules,” Daehyun lied. His voice cracked and his whole body shook with tears. “The things they’re talking about doing to me then— the things they were saying— that they did to others in front of me— the way they—” Daehyun paused to gasp, his breath coming quick. “That kind of pain isn’t beautiful, Inguk. It isn’t art. I’m so scared of them. They’re everything I ever dreamed of, but— but not those things. If you don’t break the rules, I’ll live my dream but otherwise... it’s not fair! It’s not fair that I loved them and I was loyal to them for eight years, but they don’t care about me. It’s not fair that they want you when you’ve only had the mark for a month! Why don’t they see that I love them? That I’m good for them? But, I don’t matter. They only want me to control you,” he cried.

Inguk was quick to stand. He rushed over to Daehyun, and pulled him into his arms. “It will be okay,” he promised. “I’ll keep you safe. Just tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.”

Daehyun let himself finish crying before he spoke. He pulled away from his brother, sniffled, and rubbed his eyes dry off tears, then told him, “you’ll work in their organization. They’ll start you at the lowest level of workers like dealers and shit. They say that’s level 75. You’ll have to work your way up, bit by bit, to the higher levels if we’re ever going to see each other again.”

“What do you mean?” Inguk asked.

“You’ll be promoted, at times, by whoever’s in charge of you. If you’re loyal, quiet, and obedient, and most of all if you’re good at what you’re doing, you’ll get promoted. After every ten levels, they’ll let us meet. One said it was near impossible after level 25, so if you ever got there, we’d get to meet every five,” Daehyun sniffed again, “we’re still talking about _years_ , Inguk. They’ll let me call you every once in awhile or send a photo to prove I’m alive, but…” He trailed off, thinning his lips.

Inguk nodded, “we can work with that. We can be alright like that. You know me, kid, I’m good at what I do: I don’t fuck up, I don’t squeal, and I get my job done quickly and quietly. I’ll do what I can to make sure it’s just years, not decades, alright? And, you know I won’t fuck up, so you know you’ll be safe.” He took a deep breath. “Will you be happy?”

Daehyun couldn’t fight the small smile. “I will be. They’re— this is everything I’ve ever wanted, Inguk. So long as they don’t do those _things_ to me, I’ll be the happiest I ever could be. Maybe it’s not all unfair. Because of you, I get to live my dream instead of dying.”

“Then we’ll be alright,” Inguk promised. “We’ll finally be with our precious masters, and I’ll make sure it’s nothing but happiness for you. I like that even now, you’re still so far down the rabbit hole, Alice.”

“How could I not be? Wonderland is wonderful when the Red Queen is away,” Daehyun replied, a smile on his lips. “But I don’t think I’m Alice, really. I think you are, and I’m the white rabbit.”

The door opened, and the red Matoki motioned Daehyun to return. “It looks like you’re late, Mr. Rabbit,” Inguk joked.

“Oh dear,” Daehyun joked, before hugging his brother. “See you in a couple years, I guess.”

“See you later,” Inguk agreed.

They parted, and Daehyun followed the red Matoki through the door. “You did well.” He commented as he walked Daehyun back to his room. “You’re a good actor.”

“Thank you, Master,” Daehyun replied, much more calm than he had been with his brother.

“Do you wish to see your brother sooner?” The red Matoki asked, “Would you prefer the time between seeing him to be less than years?”

“If it could be, Master,” Daehyun mumbled. He bit at his lips.

“Then it will be,” the red Matoki replied. “If you’re behavior is good, you will be rewarded like that. And if it’s bad, then whatever terrible things you were imagining back there, I will make them one hundred times worse.” They had reached his room, and the red Matoki followed him in.

“Of course, Master,” Daehyun agreed.

“Let me be clear, you’re acting stops here. You will not make the others think your feelings for them are more than whatever they are. You will not lie to us.” The red Matoki straightened to loom over him. “This is my team, and I am it’s leader. I will protect them from you. They’re all attached to you beyond what I think is safe. No level of attachment to another person is really safe, and I’m worried the more time you spend here, the more attached they’ll be. It won’t seem like it when we’re like this, but deep down the lot of them are sensitive. If they get too attached, you could hurt them. If you hurt them, or if you ever give me reason to believe you might, I will end you in ways no human could enjoy. Is that understood?”

Daehyun gulped, and took a nervous step back. “Yes, Master.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Graphic Violence
> 
> Daehyun longed for them even now that they had him. How long would he have to wait?

Daehyun’s room had slowly filled with every time he slept. With no clock in the room he was placed, there was no means to determine the time, which he instead measured in meals and sleep. It felt like the days stretched longer than they should, and he longed for the brief times he would see his Masters, who only ever came in to bring him a tray of food or collect it.

During his first sleep, they had brought him an old DVD player, the portable kind that could not connect to the internet, and a pile of DVDs. Finding the massive scratch on the copy of Die Hard, he knew they had taken them from where he once lived. Later, he was given an old game console, likely from way back in the 2000s or 2010s, which rigged to not display the time and could not, in its ancient form, connect to modern internet even if it wanted to. 

He had slept five times when the blue Matoki appeared in his doorway, sans the tray that Daehyun would expect. “You are permitted to watch Dada and I today.” That high pitched voice grated at his ears in the silence of his room.

“Thank you, Master,” Daehyun replied. His legs were unsteady as he stood from his bed and followed blue Matoki from the room. “Dada is the green-masked Master, isn’t he?” Daehyun asked.

“Yes,” the blue Matoki replied, “I’m Toto. You don’t really need to know this. You’ll call us by our real names soon.”

Daehyun’s face lit up with excitement as his response came, “I’ll be allowed to know your real name, Master?” Toto’s shoulders shook slightly, like someone laughing under layers of heavy blankets, but no sound came from him. “I truly must be the luckiest person in the world.”

Toto did not reply right away. They walked down the poorly lit hallway, turning every hundred meters or so to go down another hallway that looked the same as the others. Large metal doors like the one leading to his own room were sparse, but did appear at least once in every new line they walked. “If you are the luckiest fan we have, then prepare to meet the pathetic least lucky of the lot,” the blue Matoki said.

“The only fans that are not lucky are those that never have the opportunity to see you, Master,” Daehyun mumbled.

“They thought that once too,” Toto replied as he lead Daehyun through the door. The room was filled with twenty or so people, each hung by their hand from the ceiling. Their blood stained their torn clothes, with frail bodies barely holding onto life. Low whimpers full of fear escaped them as the pair entered the room. Dada was already there, fixing IV bags to their arms. “They all said they loved us once. Now,” Toto opened a large metal cabinet, and pulled out a knife from the door. “Now, they only fear us. They hate us.” He turned to Daehyun and pressed the tip of the knife to Daehyun’s throat. “How long will it take for you to hate us too?”

“Never, Master.” Daehyun promised in a mumble, unable to fully open his mouth without cutting himself.

“I doubt that,” Toto replied as he pulled the knife away. He make a quick, shallow slice at Daehyun’s arm. “We are not fools, pet. It will be too much for you. You will try to run away one day. Then, you’ll end up like them.” He nodded to the group.

Toto put the knife away and turned to Dada. “One little slice won’t ruin him.” There was a pause, and then Toto’s voice came back in a more forceful manner. “Well, they wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t commented.”

Toto suddenly grabbed a different knife from the cabinet, slammed the door shut, and threw it into a nearby body. There was a loud scream, and then Toto stalked over and began to dismember her with little hesitation or thought. Daehyun was confused, but mesmerized. His eyes were wide and he shifted slightly where he stood.

As her screams faded to desperate whimpers, Dada came to pick Daehyun up and place him on a cool metal table toward the center of the wall. He was handed a small screen to read while the green Matoki began to wrap his arm in gauze.

“Do not read aloud or everyone will hear you. Don’t worry too much if you don’t understand. You can’t hear what we say to each other, so you’ll miss 4/5ths of the conversation. I can’t even talk to you without writing.” Daehyun tapped the screen to see if there was more. Another page loaded. “Toto was scolded for harming you. We are supposed to allow you to heal fully before taking you upstairs, so that we may mark every millimeter of you then. Now he’s throwing a fit.”

Dada finished bandaging his arm, but stayed close. Daehyun leaned forward to rest his head on his shoulder. Her sounds had all but stopped, but he could still hear Toto cutting at her skin. He tapped the screen again and a third message loaded. “You have a cute butt,” it read. Daehyun giggled. He tapped the screen again and it disappeared. Dada took the screen from him and slipped it into his own hoodie pocket.

Dada stepped away, and Daehyun looked up with a red face crossed by a large, pleased smile. He kicked his feet a little as the last of his happy giggles left him.

He was left with a sight of the fan Toto had taken his hissy fit out on, with her toes and fingers scattered across the ground and a large part of her skin had been peeled off. The majority of that on her chest had been peeled away to reveal the organs inside. Despite her heart visibly having stopped, blood still seeped from her every open wound. “Are you afraid?” Toto asked without looking at him.

“How could I be afraid of art, Master?” Daehyun replied. “You’ve made a masterpiece like no other, with more skill than any could ever hope to have.” His mouth had quirked up at the edges, and hung open after he finished speaking. His eyes were wide, but crinkled slightly at the sides.

Toto came to him, knife still gripped in his hand, but Daehyun did not flinch. It was raised to his face and Daehyun stared up at his with wide, hopeful eyes. “I’d like to do that to you, too,” Toto said, “but I don’t think I’ll ever be allowed to. At least, not until you run away. Don’t bother to say the day will never come, pet. You will be scared of us soon enough.” The blood from either side of knife was wiped on his cheeks, with care not to so much as scrape at his skin. 

“Am I pretty now, Master?” Daehyun asked, “Have you made me into your art too?”

“You would be prettier if it were your own blood,” Toto replied. “But apparently I am not allowed any fun with you until you’ve earned it.” After a moment, he turned to Dada. “You’re right, we should get on with your experiment quickly.”

Daehyun watched as the two of them approached a group of three who looked rather unharmed. They untied the first, who tried to run the moment their feet hit the ground. They were grabbed without trouble, and shackles were attached to their feet. They were hoisted up over the beams across the ceiling then, hung by their feet a couple feet from the ground. Shackles were attached from their hands to the ground to keep them from trying to escape. The same process was repeated with the other two.

“I understand your point,” Toto said, “but it’s not as fun to watch them die this way.” There was a long pause. “I really don’t think their heads will explode. I doubt they’ll even  _ bleed _ . Where’s the fun if they don’t bleed?” 

The first was whining quite a lot as they tried to pull up to an upright position. “What, you don’t like it, pest?” Toto asked them.

“Please let me down,” they replied with a sob, “please, I’ll do anything. Please just let me go.”

“No need to be so rude,” Toto taunted. “Our pet seems to think you’re art. Are you insulting Dada’s art? And you call yourself a fan?” When they opened their mouth to speak, Toto punched them in the stomach to cut off their response. 

Daehyun shifted with discomfort in his seat. He swallowed hard. His eyes drifted over to the disfigured body from before, then he gulped and quickly looked away. He needed to calm down. He took a deep breath.

“I’ll let you down if you answer me correctly,” Toto said. “Don’t you think our new pet is pretty?”

They tried to gulp, but struggled to. “He’s very pretty,” they agreed.

“Only pretty?” Toto taunted.

“Beautiful,” they corrected, “lovely, cute, sexy—”

They were cut off with another punch to the stomach. “He’s ours; don’t be so easy with your compliments. I don’t share very well.” He pulled away. “You’ll remain hanging then — wrong answer.”

There was a pause, as the two looked back at Daehyun, whose face was red. He quickly looked away from them, and shifted once more where he was sitting.

“What do you think?” Toto gripped the chin of a young man, barely injured in comparison to the rest. “You’re still healthy. We could even send you home.”

He looked not at Daehyun, but at the hanging man, and chewed on his lip. It took a couple seconds for him to answer. “I don’t think he’s pretty at all, Masters.” He answered, nervously. The look he sent Daehyun was near apologetic.

“Rude!” Toto shouted. “Are you questioning our taste in pets?” There was a pause. “You’re right Dada, anyone with eyes could see he is pretty. I suppose if this pest’s don’t work properly, he doesn’t need them.”

Dada wandered over to the metal cabinet, and pulled out a metal skewer. The man screamed before Dada had even reached him, and Daehyun let out a small whimper that hid itself under the man’s screams. He shifted again in his seat, uncomfortable.

There was a distinct plopping noise as the eyes fell to the ground that ran a shiver up his spine.

“How about you?” Toto asked another fan, one who looked much more worn and destroyed than the rest. Their clothes barely hung onto them, ripped and blood splattered so many times over. “It’s been nearly five years, hasn’t it? If you answer right, I’ll finally let you die. Is our new pet pretty?”

“I have no thoughts or opinions other than those of my masters,” the fan choked out. Their voice was gravelly and weak, like death was soon for them regardless. “If Master believes the pet is pretty, then it must be so.”

Dada stepped forward then, snapping their neck like a twig. Daehyun’s whimper came louder, with nothing to hide it. 

“It seems our pet is scared now.” Toto walked toward him. He stopped suddenly. “What do you mean, ‘not scared’? Look at him.”

Dada walked past him, and Daehyun shifted in discomfort as he got close. He tried to cover his lap with his hands, but found it difficult to hide the bulge there. He gulped again, and fought the urge to lick his lips. His face was tilted up by those hands that had so easily just taken a life, and he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath to calm himself. He trembled, slightly, as Dada’s free hand spread across his thigh.

In an instant, Daehyun was thrown to the ground, another pleased whimper escaping him. Dada yanked him up by the hair and threw him into the wall roughly, which turned his small sounds into a much louder moan. The green Matoki pressed up against him, and Daehyun clung to the edges of his hood. “Please, Master,” Daehyun whined without a thought. Dada cupped his hardening member, and Daehyun groaned, low and needy.

“Fascinating,” Toto said, “he likes it.”

Dada began to rub him through his pants, and Daehyun whined low in his throat. His facer grew redder as more needy noises escaped him.

Then all contact ceased, and Daehyun collapsed on the ground with a whine. “He’s being cockblocked,” Toto informed, “and now he’s taking out his aggression.” Daehyun looked up, only to see Dada violently beating the man who had said Daehyun was not pretty earlier. Daehyun whimpered and covered his face. “The others want me to tell you that you have to earn the privilege of anything sexual, just like everything else.”

The two Matoki went about finishing their business in their room while Daehyun remained crumpled on the ground. He took deep breaths and tried to imagine anything he wasn’t attracted to, because otherwise he would surely lose it and beg for them.

He did not know how long it was before one of Toto dragged him up by the arm and threw him over his shoulder. Daehyun laid limp as he was carried from the room, and even whined slightly when he was put down in the hallway. “Follow,” he was ordered. Daehyun walked behind the two of them, his face still red and lowered from his previous struggle. Their path winded for minutes through the maze of hallways, until they led him through another unmarked metal door.

“Daehyun!” The familiar voice was desperate, and Daehyun looked up to meet eyes with Ahin. All five remaining boys were hung from the ceiling much like how the fans had been, with Joongi’s body nowhere in sight.

Ahin was punched across the face. “Do not speak unless spoken to,” Toto ordered.

Dada pointed Daehyun to a metal table against the wall, much like the one he had sat on before. He quickly sat himself down on it, and waited. “Do you want to know how we go about our art, pet?” Toto asked.

“Yes, please, Master,” Daehyun replied. 

Toto leaned against the table turned to watch Dada as he approached Keunseuk. “It’s all a matter of patience, pet. Those massive hits and cuts are fun while they last, but they’ll die quickly if we start there. Unlike those pests you met before, we care enough to make these sacks of garbage last a bit longer.”

Dada began to use Keunseuk as a punching bag. “He’s already taken quite a bit, so we’ll start off with more than we would with a newbie. But still, start small. The littlest things can be worth a lot at the beginning.” They were silent until Keunseuk coughed up blood. Dada grabbed a knife from the cabinet. “Just when it’s getting to be a little too much, that’s when we hit them with something special. We change it up each time, but just something to make them scream.” Dada cut off one of Keunseuk’s fingers.

“Fuck!” Keunseuk cried out. He whimpered softly a moment later.

“It’s such a nice sound, isn’t it? The screaming, the whimpers, begging, and crying. I like the begging the best, really. It always makes me want more,” Toto’s shoulders were shaking again, and he poked at Daehyun’s reddening cheeks. “You want more, don’t you?”

“Please, Master,” Daehyun breathed. His mouth hung open slightly as he watched on. Keunseuk’s screams began to hid their conversation from the others.

“You’ll always want more right away, won’t you? But patience is better, pet. Taking them apart slowly, unravelling them until they are nothing but a compliant shell, and then taking everything we want from them like the toys they are. That’s how we make it the most fun. You have to let it build up, pet. All the little sensations, every action taken, and every new, exciting toy we bring out gets blended together inside them until it boils over and they can’t take it anymore, until they’re screaming and crying while motionless because they’ve lost their ability to even  _ move _ without feeling what we’ve done to them, and until they let go of everything they’ve been clinging onto so that they only have us,” Toto said.

Daehyun gulped and shifted with discomfort renewed. Toto looked at him, and at his lap as Daehyun tried to hide it, before his shoulders shook silently again. “You’re so easy,” Toto said.

“Master is teasing me. How else would I respond?” He whined.

“Just remember, pet, that it’s all about the build up. You’ll always be desperate to have it all done right away, but with patience you get quite a lot more,” Toto promised. 

Daehyun buried his head in his hands, unable to watch as Dada continued to take apart Keunseuk. He forced deep, ragged breaths through his lungs and lightly hit at his own red face. “How long will you keep them alive, Master?” Daehyun asked.

“As long as we can,” Toto replied. “With punishments like this, we like them to suffer as long as possible, with no easy deaths or mercy killings.”

“I— I don’t mean to question your will or your words, Master, but why did you have me kill Joongi, then?” He asked, biting at his lip when Toto looked at him. “I’m asking because I’m sure Masters had a brilliant reason, and I would like to understand the Masters as well as I can so I can serve them to the best of my abilities.”

“We wanted you to prove you could handle orders you did not enjoy. For most, that’s a beating, but when a fan enjoys their beating, things get a little more complicated. Especially if we like a fan the way we like you,” Toto replied.

“Thank you so much for explaining, Master,” Daehyun breathed. He watched silently from there, with his head resting on Toto’s shoulder as Dada continued to pick apart the members of his brother’s gang one by one. When only Jisub was left, the door to the room opened suddenly, with the red Matoki behind it.

“Shishi, you didn’t say you were coming.” Toto said.

“Both of you. Outside. Now. Pet, you can stay and do whatever you’d like with this filth, but do not distract Dada or Toto when they return.”

“Yes, Master,” Daehyun readily agreed.

Dada and Toto left with Shishi, and Daehyun watched the closed door with a pout. “Daehyun, quick, the keys are on the wall behind you,” Jisub called. Daehyun only stared at him. “The keys to our handcuffs, Daehyun. They’re behind you. Grab them quick and untie us.”

“Why would I do that?” Daehyun asked.

“So that we can all escape alive,” Jisub replied, as if it should be obvious. “We need to make our escape while they’re gone, so be quick about it!”

“Why would you want to escape?” Daehyun asked.

“Do you not see what they’re doing to us?” Jisub demanded. “Half of us are half dead already, and that’s not even mentioning what they made you do to Joongi! They’re going to torture all of us to death, and then probably you and Inguk are next. You know you aren’t safe just because you have the mark, don’t you? They’ll torture you just like they are to us.”

“If I’m lucky,” Daehyun replied.

“If you’re lucky?” Jisub asked.

“Masters say I must earn anything fun like that,” Daehyun informed.

“Fun?” Jisub shouted.

“Oh, you’re right, not fun. Beautiful. So very, truly beautiful. The Masters are making you into art, Jisub! Don’t you see? Don’t you see how lovely they’ve made the others? They weren’t anything nice to look at before, but now — now they’re works of art! They’ll be masterpieces when masters finish them. You’ll be a masterpiece too. Aren’t you excited? You’re not even worthy of such an honor, but the Masters’ kindness knows no bounds. I can’t wait until I’ve earned it. I can’t wait until I’m art too.”

“He’s deranged,” Seungwon barely managed to cough out.

“Haven’t they hurt you already?” Jisub asked. “Look at yourself, covered in those bruises and the blood on your cheeks. Isn’t it enough to tell you that maybe you’re wrong about them?”

“I’m not wrong about my Masters. They’re artists in the truest sense,” Daehyun insisted. “These bruises are artwork, and my Master says the blood on my cheeks makes me pretty. If only it were my own, maybe then my Masters would reward me,” he sighed. “But I will not question my Masters’ wills. If this is how they wish me to be then this is how I will be. I am certain they know better than I.”

“What about when they want you to be something you don’t want to be?” Jisub asked.

“That day will never come. I have no will but my Masters’. I have no wish but to please them. Whatever they want from me, I’ll be it.”

“What if they want you dead?” Jisub challenged.

“It would be an honor to die for them, even more so if by their hands,” Daehyun replied. “You can’t convince me that I’ll be unhappy here, Jisub. Stop trying to convince me to help you escape. I would never betray my beloved Masters that way.”

“They made you kill Joongi!” Jisub shouted.

Daehyun shrugged, “I don’t mind. I will never object to anything my Masters ask for me to do. Stop pestering me, really, you’re just being annoying. If it would not upset them, I would have killed you myself by now.”

“I thought we were your friends, Daehyun,” Ahin sobbed out quietly.

“You also thought the TV being broken was more important than me laying in a pool of my own blood,” Daehyun replied. 

The room went silent, and Daehyun pouted while staring at the door again. Soon enough, it opened and the three Matoki came through. He watched on with with wide eyes as Dada and Toto began beating those remaining conscious viciously, with the same vigor as they had used on the fans beforehand.

Shishi came to stand next to him, yanked his arm forward, and peered under the bandages Dada had wrapped around the cut. “They are upset because they were scolded,” the red Matoki said. “With the way that you look, it’s difficult, but try not to distract them too much. If they can’t control themselves around you, you won’t be able to watch them anymore. Understood?”

“Yes, Master,” Daehyun replied.

“You’ve been good today. Keep it up, and you will not be down here much longer,” Shishi concluded. He left the room and left Daehyun beaming over his former friends’ screams.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daehyun would never dream of questioning his Masters, but he couldn't help but feel like he was doing something wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! I'm so sorry for how long this chapter took. I've been struggling with some mental health issues lately and couldn't focus long enough to write. Thank you so much for sticking with me~~
> 
> [Tumblr](http://brainboxy.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/youngjaebunny) | [AFF](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1222652/)

“So you’re liking work then?” Daehyun asked in a small, content voice. He kicked his feet which hung over the edge of his bed, in the small white room which they kept promising he would leave soon. Daehyun had long since lost count of the days. All he knew about time of late was that much too much of it had passed with nothing to show.

“This is the best job I’ve ever had. The system here — I have no idea how to explain how amazing it is. Everything always runs so smoothly, there’s never a chance of error, everyone takes their jobs so seriously, and for once in my life my coworkers don’t try to talk to me. No one’s asking about my life. No one’s trying to be my friend. This is literally my dream. I mean — working for  _ them _ was my dream anyway, you know that. Ever since you went down the rabbit hole and I started to look into them, I’ve wanted to work for them — with them. It’s been what eight years? I know I took a little while longer to get on the anything-will-do train with you but  _ working for them _ ? It’s even better than I expected. It’s better than anything I could have dreamed.” Inguk’s gritty voice came over the phone. 

Daehyun giggled a little at his brother’s excitement. He took the pillow from the end of the bed and held it close to his chest, content to bury his face in while his brother spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you be this enthusiastic before,” he teased.

“You have no idea how amazing my job is,” Inguk retorted, “and they gave me a fast pass! I feel so honored they believe in me like this.”

“A fast pass?” Daehyun asked.

“It’s one of those charms, like the ones you had before. They gave me a white one when they sent me out, apparently it means my bosses should promote me quicker than the normal grunt because I’ve already proven myself to them,” Inguk said.

“Do…” Daehyun bit at his lip. “Do they know about me? About the situation?”

“No,” Inguk replied, and there was something reassuring about that familiar harshness in his tone, “why would they know anything about you? Don’t be stupid, Daehyun. Clearly I’m not allowed to say anything, especially with your new job.”

“My new job?” Daehyun lifted his head up, his voice going high. “They told you?”

“I got a text message with my last promotion — a photo of you and a brief note that you’d be working as a servant, right?” Inguk asked. 

“Yeah,” Daehyun smiled softly, “they’ve honored me with the opportunity to serve them. Have you been promoted already? It doesn’t feel like it’s been long enough for that, even if you do have a fast pass.”

“I’ve been promoted twice so far. It is a bit quick, twice in three months, but my boss seems to think that I’m more capable than the others on our team. More than once now, he’s told me that I clearly belong at the higher levels. I’m worried he’s grown suspicious that there was a reason I was put down at the bottom at first, something I did that requires me to prove myself a second time,” Inguk said.

“Well, he’s not wrong.”

“He’s not wrong, but no one is supposed to know about you. It was even direct orders from  _ them _ ; you are a secret. Fuck, I mean, my orders this morning were to drive out to the middle of nowhere with this burner phone and wait for this phone call. If my boss figures it out, well, it could be bad. I don’t think there’s really any indication of how I fucked this up, though, just that I did somehow.” Inguk sighed. 

“It’s not the end of the world,” Daehyun replied, “our true bosses are geniuses, after all. They likely foresaw this problem and didn’t think it mattered enough to attempt avoiding it.”

“You’re right,” Inguk agreed. “How have you liked working as  a servant then? I’ve heard you’ll even be serving them when they aren’t working.”

“I haven’t been allowed to begin yet,” Daehyun grumbled.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Daehyun whined, “I’m sure they have reasons, but I’m not smart enough to see them. It’s been so long since they offered me this job, so long since I agreed to it, but I still haven’t been allowed to start working. It feels like every time I see one of them, they tell me I will begin soon, but soon never comes.” He flopped onto his side, the pillow still clung to his chest, now slightly wet where his eyes rested.

“I’m sure they have their reasons,” Inguk comforted.

“I am too, and I’m certain they’re the most insightful, wonderful, and intelligent reasons ever. I’m not questioning their will for me to wait — I’d never question their will. I’d never have any will but to please them. It just hurts, because it feels as though I’m being held back because I’ve disappointed them in some way or because I have yet to do something they wish me to do. I just want to know what I’m doing wrong! The idea that I might have disappointed or upset them hurts me,” Daehyun voice got whinier as he spoke.

“Don’t be such a baby. If they keep saying soon, like you said, and if they haven’t told you that you’ve messed up somehow, then you’re probably fine. Trust them, Daehyun. They know what they want from you and they’ll have it. Just focus on serving them well in whatever capacity you can right now,” Inguk ordered.

“It feels like they don’t even do what they want, though!” Daehyun whined. “How have I messed up this terribly that they don’t even follow their own wishes?” 

“What do you mean?”

“Earlier, I suppose it was months ago now, I was permitted to watch two of them work, though now it seems I have been banned from watching them. Often the two would want to, um… well, they’d want to hurt me — to make me art. They would tell me, even, that that was what they wanted to do. In the past, they’ve never had any problem with beating me. There’s never been any qualms from them about following their own will when it came to me. But all of a sudden, it seems like they have to ask for my permission to do anything to me, and that no matter how much they wish to do something, there are just some things they aren’t allowed to do. I don’t understand — I’m not smart enough to understand them. All I want is to serve them well. All I want is to please them, but it’s so difficult to know how to do so when I don’t understand their will or why they aren’t following it.”

He could hear Inguk’s annoyed sigh over the phone line, “just do what you’re told, okay? This isn’t some weird guessing game. If they want something from you, they’ll take it. If they want you to do something, they’ll tell you. Don’t worry if things aren’t clear to you, because they don’t need to be. Just let things be as they are.”

They didn’t have a chance to speak much longer before Joko, the yellow Matoki came in and told Daehyun to say his goodbyes and hang up. Once he had, he followed Joko down the maze of hallways to the strange room that Daehyun had spent most of his time in when he was permitted to leave his own room. He hadn’t been allowed to follow Dada or Toto to work in about a month and a half, not since Toto had thrown him onto the ground and began beating him, only for Shishi to come pull him from the room again while Dada tended to the injuries.

Joko pressed his fingers into a keypad in a strange pattern, then pressed the dark, glass eye of his suit up to its own scanner. Daehyun had been told a couple times before that the entire room would explode if these steps were not completed perfectly, and thus stayed back, with his head down, until the door was opened and Joko pulled him through.

The room was large and comfortable, and he had been told upon his first entry that he could remove his metal bindings if he wished because of the lack of cameras. From what he understood, the room operated on completely different security protocol than the rest of the compound he was locked in, which meant there were no cameras, nor bugs. The room would explode if anyone but the Matoki tried to enter it, unless a Matoki member had already unlocked the door, likely rigged that way due to the sensitive information inside.

The room was much more homely that the others in the compound. There were comfortable couches gathered in a U-shape near the door, with a square coffee table at its center and a large screen at the opening of the U. The walls on either side of the couches were filled with bookshelves. On the far side from the door, on the same wall as the screen, stood a wooden door unlike the metal found throughout the compound. Daehyun had never been allowed through it.

A clear wall, made of thick plastic panels with wires running through them, separated the far half of the room fully from the first half where the couches were. It was automated to fold up against one wall when opened, and fully destroy the contents of that side of the room if the room exploded. From what he understood, only Joko or Shishi could access the keypad on the wall that caused the screen to open. Joko seemed to be the only one who really needed access to that side of the room anyway.

Joko pressed his gloved fingers again into the keypad on the wall, all at once, and then pressed the glass eye of his suit up to the second scanner again. It took nearly ten seconds for the keypad to beep with acceptance, and the clear screen began to fold back to allow them to the other side of the room. At the center of that side of the room sat a long, somewhat narrow work table, with several stools around it and broken electronics piled on top. The drawers of the work table were labelled with various tools and parts. Behind the work table, there was a large desk built into the walls, in the same U-shape as the couches on the other side of the room. On the left side of the desk sat a small, three monitor computer with a simple keypad and mouse. On the right side, there were two laptops and a large shelf filled with stacks upon stacks of electronics. There were more in the drawers below the desk as well.

At the desk’s center, where Joko sat in a grey rolling chair, was a massive computer system that took up the whole wall. It had a screen that covered the majority of the upper portion of the wall, as well as several smaller monitors, and three different keyboards, only one of which was standard. The other two contained keys Daehyun did not understand, although he had seen Joko use them with ease many times in the past. Joko was also able to use his finger to direct a couple of the screens, waving it about in the air like he was a conductor and the computer was his orchestra. Underneath that portion of the desk sat the modem and the system units, of which there were several.

“You will sit on my lap until the others come,” Joko ordered.

“Of course, Master,” Daehyun complied. He settled onto Joko’s lap with a sort of nervous thrum about him. His master, in turn, pulled him to rest his head on his shoulder, and began to pet his hair softly. Despite the heat behind his cheeks, Daehyun could not help but relax. His back pushed against one of the armrests of the chair, and he let his legs drape over the other so that the chair kept him in a cradled position.

“Did you enjoy your call with your brother, pet?” Joko asked him.

Daehyun peered up at his white cloth face and his yellow mask, as if expecting them to show any emotion besides the smile that the mask was twisted into. “I was happy to hear from him. He had so many praises for Masters and their organization.”

“Do you miss him?” Joko asked, the slightest tinge of something human to the way that he spoke. Daehyun had grown accustomed to it. Despite the modifiers still on their voices, causing them to sound like entirely inhuman robots, when they spoke to him or each other, they would drop the strange cadence he had heard from them at first. When they spoke to others, it would come back without problem.

Daehyun did not answer at first, and instead stared again at the Matoki’s clothed face again as if it would hold the answers. “I’m not sure if you’d like me to answer yes or no, Master,” was his eventual response.

Joko yanked him by his hair with sudden harshness and Daehyun knew he had upset him. “Answer honestly. You are not to lie to us, even if to make us happy.”

“I do miss him,” replied Daehyun, his voice having gone soft and nervous.

Joko pulled Daehyun’s head back to his shoulder, and smoothed down his hair before rubbing over the places where it stung. “I will need your help today, pet. We’re erasing any records of you kept online.”

Daehyun spent a large portion of his day in Joko’s lap. Despite his earlier statement, there was not actually much for Daehyun to do besides answer questions of where he had gone to school, what companies he had had service contracts with, and what websites he had accounts on. It was not long after Joko had finished that Shishi came, and Daehyun worried that Joko would be scolded the way Toto and Dada had been so many times before. 

Shishi, instead, set himself on the other computer system, and began working with no acknowledgement of the two of them. It wasn’t unusual. Tats, the pink-masked Matoki, came in not long after, and sat on one of the couches.

“It feels strange to stay masked in here,” Tats said after a long beat of silence, “the couch is less comfortable like this.”

“Try using the computers with the suit on,” Joko near grumbled back, “plus the lock takes forever to recognize me like this. I can’t conduct all of the screens like I can with bare hands, either. It’s all-around inconvenient.” Daehyun looked up at him with a slight pout, and would have apologized if Joko had not began petting his hair.

“Shush,” Shishi ordered the two of them in his deeply-pitched voice. “It will not be much longer. Toto, Dada, why aren’t you here yet?” He asked. 

“Well, hurry up,” Joko said after a long moment. “Daehyun, go sit on the couch.”

“Yes, Master.” Daehyun stretched as he walked towards the couch, then settled by Tats’ side. Tats pat Daehyun’s head when he sat down, but did not pull Daehyun to cuddle against him, much to Daehyun’s dismay.

He was by far the Matoki Daehyun spent the least time with. While he no longer watched Dada or Toto work because they were unable to control themselves — Toto in particular wanting to beat him senseless most of the time — he had spent a majority of his time with the pair at the start. Their jobs seemed to revolve almost entirely on torture, whether it be punishing Daehyun’s gang and others that insulted them, torturing information out of various enemies, or simply _playing_ with their fans, as they like to put it. 

Joko’s job primarily centered around things within the strange room they were in — hacking, research, fixing broken things, and inventing new devices for the Matoki to use. It was easy for Daehyun to watch him work, with a low risk of Joko beating him as Toto would, or coming onto him as Dada had. Joko seemed to be one of the tamest of the bunch unless his violence was needed, so Daehyun supposed that all culminated into why he had spent the majority of his time with Joko since being taken away from Toto and Dada.

Shishi, from what Daehyun understood, was in charge. There wasn’t any specific location Daehyun would go to watch him work, as he would for the other three, but he did end up spending a good amount of his time in the same room as Joko. About half of the time, he would go to use the smaller computer system, and Daheyun would stay by Joko’s side. The other half of the time, he would be sitting on the couch, probably simply giving orders or planning with the others without need to really be doing anything. During those times, Daehyun would be permitted to sit by his side, so long as he didn’t interfere with any papers Shishi had spread out across the coffee table, or the tablet or laptop Shishi would be using to make plans.

Tats, on the other hand, never seemed to be nearby. He had been told once that Tats’ job mainly consisted of things outside of the compound, and so Daehyun could not go with him to watch. He had sat with Tats and Joko once while they were fixing one of their vans, and had been allowed to watch Tats and the Matoki’s medical team working to keep one of the bosses within their organization alive after the boss had been hit by a bullet, but his experiences with the pink-masked Matoki were limited.

Dada and Toto arrived after a couple of minutes, and settled down on the couches as well. Dada had picked up Daehyun and sat where he had been sitting with Daehyun on his lap, while Toto has sat as far from them and as close to the screen as he could manage. Daehyun shifted back onto Dada, settling so his back was against Dada’s chest. Dada’s fingers drummed lightly against Daehyun’s hips and waist for a couple moments before his arms wrapped so tightly around his center that it was as if he was trying to stop Daehyun from breathing.

Shishi sat on the couch next to Toto, and Joko sat on the far couch by himself. With direction from Joko’s hands, the large screen on the wall flickered on and began to play a video.

With the police department in Seoul as his background, a middle-aged man in a cop’s uniform stood behind a podium. A female newscaster's voice played over the recording, saying, “the new police commissioner announced on Monday that he planned on showing a much tougher side to the criminal organization known as the Matoki, who have shown an unprecedented amount of control over our city in the past century, and chastised previous commissioners for allegedly working with the organization. Commissioner Woo went so far as to accuse previous commissioners of working directly for the organization, and plans to open a special investigative task force to prosecute those that have.”

The clip began to play Commissioner Woo’s statement. “... and our city, our country has been plagued for too long by the criminals known as the Matoki while politicians and the police force alike step aside. We will no longer be puppets to a criminal enterprise! Under my leadership, we will not only work to dismantle their organization and arrest the Matoki, but also to prosecute those that have worked for them within the police force and the government.”

The clip turned back to the newscaster, who bore an unhappy look and tone, “since Commissioner Woo’s press conference, the National Security Council has sent out an official statement asking Commissioner Woo not to engage with the Matoki. Commissioner Woo is advised that taking action against the Matoki or those working for them could have catastrophic effects on the nation as a whole. Several experts warn that the damage may already be done, as the organization is known to respond quite dramatically to any direct insult or threat. We reached out the police department’s main advisor on Matoki-related issues, Kim Himchan, who gave us the following statement, ‘there is no predicting what the exact reaction to this situation will be, but the Matoki are certainly not known to react to situations like these with kindness or understanding. Commissioner Woo was warned several times by members of his staff that he should not make comments regarding the Matoki. Even if no policy changes are made, the damage may already be done. We won’t know until the Matoki act, so all we can really do now is pray the reaction isn’t too destructive.’ Commissioner Woo has yet to comment on the criticism he received.” The clip cut out, and with a couple more motions from Joko, it pulled up a large amount of data on the commissioner.

Joko was moving his hands and body as if he was speaking, but Daehyun could not hear him. He had grown used to them speaking over their coms such that their conversation was private, but it did not upset him. What did upset him was Commissioner Woo’s words. Daehyun could not fight the sour look on his face as he glared at the man’s image on the screen.

“Daehyun, why are you upset?” Tats asked suddenly. “You look like you’re about to scream.”

Daehyun pointed accusingly to Commissioner Woo and replied, “I don’t like him. Clearly, he’s an incompetent fool, but what if he actually causes harm to you? Of course, I know you will be able to outsmart him at every turn, but the idea that he is even trying bothers me.” Dada began to pet his hair, and Daehyun relaxed into him.

“What should we do to him, pet?” Tats asked. Daehyun liked to imagine he would sound amused if it weren’t for the synthesizer that made him sound like a robot.

Daehyun chewed his lip. “Don’t Masters already have a plan? I’m sure you know better than me.”

“We think it will be amusing to hear your thoughts on the matter,” said Joko.

Daehyun gulped, and looked around at the five of them. A slight flush covered his cheeks when he spoke. “He’s a public figure, so if he were to go missing with no body found, they would go looking for him, wouldn’t they? Even though I’m certain you all could cover your tracks well enough to keep them from finding anything, it seems like unnecessary stress. Maybe it would be good to publicly make your opinions on his statement clear, by having him die in a very public manner.”

He thinned his lips and waited nervously for them to respond. “He’s smart, isn’t he?” Shishi said after a long pause. 

“So it’s settled then?” Joko asked.

Everyone went silent for a long time, and from the way Dada had shifted, Daehyun guessed that he was talking.

“Fair enough,” Shishi agreed, “so, we’ll simply blow up his home while he’s inside as we previously discussed, but rather than sending someone from level 2 and some lower grunts, we’ll put Inguk in charge. We’ll give him someone from level 5, two from 14, two from twenty, and the tech expert from level 3.”

“That sounds like a reasonable bunch,” Joko agreed.

“Are we really going to trust him with this? And with someone from level three?” Toto asked. “He’ll fuck it up somehow and put our best in danger.”

“The tech expert will stay in their base,” Tats promised. “There’s no risk so long as they know how to cover their own tracks. As for Inguk, this isn’t that difficult of a task. The commissioner and his wife both work, and their children are both college students that are only home on the weekends. So long as level three offers the support it needs to in order to keep he and his team under the radar, there’s very little risk in this situation.”

They went silent again, probably while Dada talked, and then Toto spoke again. “I don’t trust him.”

“I’ve already made my decision,” Shishi replied. Toto slumped down.

“How much will we reward him for a job well done?” Joko asked. “I know Dada proposed fifteen levels, but that seems to be a little much.”

“Well, if the reports Dada gave are true, he should be at least ten levels higher up, right?” Tats asked. “We don’t put people with that level of commitment and skill below sixty-three, usually, and frankly if his boss thinks he should be above level twenty-five right now, we should be giving him opportunities to jump up.”

“How can you trust him?” Toto replied, “he failed a basic test.” There was a long pause. “You’re all always on my ass about the rules, but suddenly we can blindly trust someone that’s proven to be untrustworthy just because he’s done some good work?” Toto sounded the most human in cadence that Daehyun had ever heard from them. Dada squeezed him tighter with one arm, the other coming to grip Daehyun’s hand.

“Dada’s right. He’s proven himself to be as loyal and committed as the higher levels when it isn’t about Daehyun. So long as Daehyun’s with us and not dead, it’s more or less as if he’s passed all the tests. Besides, it’s not like we’re talking about jumping him up to level twenty-five, these ten levels are basically nothing,” argued Joko. 

“So the main worry falls to timeframe,” Shishi said.

“We’d give him about a month. For the next two weeks, the Commissioner will likely be hyper-careful. Once he thinks he’s gotten away with his statements, Inguk and his team can start acting. Two weeks of planning and preparation, then set off the explosion four weekends from now, in the middle of the night as usual. Is that enough time for Daehyun?” Tats asked.

“I suppose so,” Shishi replied, “he might need to wait a day or two before they’re allowed to meet, but it should fit the timeframe rules almost exactly.”

Daehyun let a small smile cross his face, and turned to hide his content expression in Dada’s shoulder until their meeting was over. It had turned silent once again, and Daehyun was thankful they had allowed him to know what would happen to his brother.

Shishi was the one to walk Daehyun back to his room, but unlike usual, he followed in after Daehyun. 

“Sit,” he ordered. 

Daehyun sat on the bed, and stared up at his Master with a nervous expression.

“Do not worry so much about pleasing us, pet. If you had done something wrong, you would have been punished. If there was something we wanted from you, we would take it, or tell you to do it. There is no use in you trying to decode our wills, okay? You will please us well enough if you just do as you are told.”

“I understand, Master,” replied Daehyun in a soft voice. His eyes dropped to his hands.

“You also should not worry about how we are behaving. If we are holding back, it is because we have our reasoning. Do not worry about things you do not understand, just do as you are told.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Are you upset with us for monitoring your conversation with your brother?” Shishi asked.

“Of course not, Master,” Daehyun promised, “I belong to Masters. I have no desire or need for privacy from you. I have no expectation of it either.”

“Good. Then, just know that we are very pleased with you thus far. You’re behavior has been exactly what we have wanted from you. You’ve waited such a long time with so much patience, pet, and followed our orders with perfect obedience.”

Daehyun, instantly, was taken over by a beaming smile. “Thank you, Master.”

“Our medical team finally finished analyzing their data on you today. You’ve come up clean and healthy on all of their tests, and the GPS trackers they’ve inserted are working perfectly. That was the last of what we were waiting for. We’ll be taking you upstairs tomorrow, I hope you’re ready for that.”

Daehyun could not respond without screaming, so instead he sat with the his mouth open wide until it morphed into a wide grin against his red face. That redness covered his entire face, his ears, and down his neck, and he scrunched his eyes shut with happiness. He could not fight back the loud, pleased squee, and his whole body thrummed from the excitement.

“Good night, pet. Rest well. We’ll fetch you tomorrow evening when our work is done,” Shishi promised.

“Thank you!’ Daehyun cried, unable to fight back the loudness of his voice. He wrestled his glee and failed spectacularly. “Thank you so much, Master!” When the door shut, Daehyun flung himself back onto the bed, and rolled around as he kicked his feet and squealed in delight. He grabbed his pillow and pressed it to his face into it so that he could scream fully, and then continued on his excited fit.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finally, finally, he would have them. They would have him. He wanted them in every way, and would not settle until he had them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut next chapter!~~~ Thank you so much for reading! As always constructive criticism is welcome!
> 
> [Tumblr](http://brainboxy.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/youngjaebunny) | [AFF](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1222652/)
> 
> (P.S. shoutout to my beta for getting me to update on time, fixing the errors, and putting up with all of my goddamn Cthulhu jokes, you guys don't know how many times Cthulhu happened in this chapter lmao)

Daehyun spent his day impatiently rolling in his sheets, with kicking feet and squeals of glee muffled into his pillow whenever it became clear again that finally, finally, finally he finished his frustrating wait without a falter in their favor or a fade in his fanaticism. He couldn’t help but wonder if they were as impatient for him as he was for them. 

The day had come. His day had come. He would prove himself to them. They would want him. They had to want him. He wanted them. 

He could not be still for a second in his impatience. He could not hold himself back from the high of his fanatic excitement. He wanted them to take him as their own — to carve their names into his soon-to-be-marred skin, to claim and own every inch of him with bloody lines and drops of blacks and blues, and to leave him an unconscious, compliant shell for them to use. He wanted them to mark their ownership of him in blood and bruises like a properly battered corpse. He wanted them to paint him white as a ghost. He wanted to be their mangled masterpiece.

He wanted them to want him.

Toto was the one to fetch him. Daehyun had sat up the moment his door opened, with mussed hair and a wide smile spread across his flushed cheeks. “Is it time, Master?” Daehyun breathed.

“Just about,” Toto answered. “You know what you’re getting into, don’t you? Are you sure this is what you want?”

Daehyun’s whole body shook back with shock. “Of course. I want nothing more than to be with Masters and to please Masters.”

“You don’t know anything about what’s going to happen, do you? What are you thinking? That we’ll be a little rough with you once or twice — just a little hair pulling, maybe a spank or two, but nothing too painful — and then we’ll all fall in love with you? That those scary things you saw Dada and I do before, those won’t happen to you? Do you think  you’re Belle, and you just have five beasts to tame instead of one?”

“I—” Daehyun tried.

“We’re going to tear you apart, Daehyun. Don’t you get that? Night after night, day after day, we’re going to take you apart just like we do to the pests we keep down here. But you don’t care, do you? None of you do. You all think you can take it. You all think you want it. Then, you all turn out the same. You’ll start to hate us like those pests did. You’ll start to be afraid of us, until you forget that you even loved us once. Don’t think you can fool us — don’t think you can fool me, pest. You can’t handle us. You’ll try to run away,” Toto’s cadence had turned near human again as he shifted minutely from foot to foot.

“I would never run away, Master,” Daehyun promised. “All I want in life is to belong to you. I’d never do anything to undermine that.”

“You say that, but you don’t mean it. You think there are humans under these suits. You think you’ll really be special, that we’ll fall for you, that you just have to stand us for long enough and we’ll cease to be monsters. None of us will ever love you. We’ll never care about you. I’ll never trust you. When you run away, I’m going to kill you the way I killed your pathetic friends, as slowly and as painfully as I possibly can. The others — they’re too trusting. They like you too much. If you hurt them, I’ll redefine pain for you.”

“I could never hurt them, Master.” Daehyun fought the raises of his voice, wrestled down his desire to fight to be understood. His hands curled into fists with nails digging crescents into his palms.

“Maybe not all of them,” Toto agreed, “but some of us are stronger than others. Don’t bother to defend them— my mic is off, they can’t hear us.” He paused, and Daehyun wondered if it would be better to defend himself or to avoid getting hit. “You can’t hurt most of us. Joko — Joko’s different. Haven’t you noticed? He’s not quite a monster like the rest of us are. He didn’t have every shred of humanity ripped out of him. He’s…” Toto paused again. He leaned against the far wall of Daehyun’s room and rubbed at his masked face with his covered hands. “He’s soft— sensitive— and if you hurt him, if you run away and he gets upset, I’ll make you suffer more than anyone a Toto has ever tortured has ever suffered before.”

_ Deep breaths _ . “I understand, Master. I won’t hurt him. I won’t run away.”

“You will. Follow me,” Toto ordered. Toto left the room without a second glance, and Daehyun was quick to stand and follow him down the maze of hallways, back to the strange room he spent so much time inside. The others were gathered on the couch, silent as they entered the room.

“Why was your com off?” Shishi asked the moment Toto had fully stepped through the door.

“My com wasn’t off. I just turned the mic off for a couple of minutes,” defended Toto.

Shishi crossed his arms. “Why?”

“Jeez, sometimes I want to make dirty promises to our new pet without the entire peanut gallery listening in, let me live,” Toto lied.

“Daehyun?” Joko asked.

“Master just had some promises for me,” Daehyun replied softly, and he scratched at the skin on his arms. It wasn’t a lie, was it? How was he supposed to answer in a situation like this — where he wasn’t allowed to lie yet could not betray his master by telling the truth?

It was silent for an awkward breath, and then Dada threw Daehyun over his shoulder like he weighed nothing, and they led him through the wooden door at the corner of the room. He was dropped down on a wooden bench, one of three in the small locker room. Each of the eight lockers was painted a different color — red, hot pink, white, yellow, green, blue, and two baby pink lockers with white hearts. Daehyun’s eyes locked on the three he had not seen before and he looked  a t Dada as if the silent Matoki might offer some sort of explanation. 

“No one fits those colors yet,” Tats filled in, “you might have a chance to wear both, though. Keke’s suit is the white; the ones for pets are the pink hearts.”

“Keke?” Daehyun asked.

“Later,” Tats replied, “Dada is being impatient.” After a moment, he nudged Shishi, who straightened.

“As a reward for your good behavior, you will be allowed upstairs with us, pet. Before we go, we have a gift for you. You’ll be allowed to unmask each of us,” Shishi said. “The rules say we go in the order we met you in, which means Dada will go first.”

Daehyun couldn’t help the grin covering his face as Dada settled on the bench next to him. He pulled at Daehyun’s leg until he was straddling the bench, then mimicked the position. Dada took his hands and lead them to his hoodie, and with trembling hands, Daehyun lifted the hood off. Underneath the long bunny ears remained, though now that they were not covered in their cloth sheaths the plastic they were made of was visible. Dada looked to Joko expectantly.

“We fill the ears with our oxygen supply when we think there’s the slightest chance of gases being used against us,” Joko said, “the entire suit underneath has a hazmat suit incorporated into it, so if there are any bioweapon measures put into place, we won’t be affected.”

“Masters are so smart,” Daehyun breathed.

A soft  _ click _ drew his attention back to Dada. The bottom of his black mask had slipped slightly out from the green mask over the lower half of his face, revealing a thin, bent metal bar across the top. A second  _ click _ came and the top of the mask was freed as well. 

“Are you ready, Daehyun?” Joko asked.

“Who knows what you’ll find under there,” Toto teased.

“I’m going to guess he’s either a robot, an alien, or a really, really old man,” Daehyun joked softly. Relief flooded him to see their shoulders shaking in that silent laughter he had seen so many times before.

“He says he’s an alien,” Joko replied, “specifically a tentacle monster.”

Daehyun thinned his lips and nodded, trying to fight back his fit of giggles. “I was expecting a lot of things tonight, but not hentai,” he admitted. 

Dada must have grown impatient with their joking, because his hands found their way to his knees and he tapped at them until Daehyun looked back to him. Dada led his hands to the bottom mask, and refused to let go as he guided Daehyun to pull the thin metal strip fully free of the green mask. Daehyun was surprised by how thick the cloth was between his fingers.

“It’s normal cloth, then Kevlar, then the hazmat suit, then some tech enhancements, then normal cloth again,” Joko explained.

Daehyun wasn’t listening very closely, instead mesmerized by the thick column of tan skin that was Dada’s neck. Dada pressed on, and led Daehyun hands to the top of the mask. Daehyun pulled the metal strip at the top free, then pushed it back so that black face mask fell to his back like the hood it secretly was.

A sharp gasp escaped him before he could fight back the shock at the sharp eyes now staring into his. Blue hair fell over his forehead, tousled and messy from the hood, and Daehyun could not stop himself from smoothing it down. He could see the small white earpiece in the man’s ear, connecting down to the mask on his face. Dada pulled the chord of the earpiece from the mask, and then the chord from the ear piece so that it was separate from both. He stuck it in his hoodie pocket, and then led Daehyun’s hands to his green mask, about an inch thicker than Daehyun has expected it to be.

Dada’s hand dropped from there, leaving Daehyun to remove the mask on his own. He could see Dada gulp, and couldn’t help but mimic the action. His hands shook as he pulled the straps from around either ear and pulled the mask from his face. 

Sharp, amused eyes rested above sharp cheekbones, a sharp nose, and a sharp jaw. The only thing lacking the clever sharpness were his pretty pink lips. Daehyun breathed in a sharp gasp before realizing.  “This Master is so sexy.” The nervousness palpable in his voice.

“My name is Jongup,” his master said, brushing off Daehyun’s compliment.

“Jongup,” Daehyun repeated quietly, trying to be submissive and subservient again. His face flushed pink, and he tugged his lip between his teeth at Jongup’s coquettish grin. Suddenly, he found his head cracking against the wood of the bench as he was pushed flush back against it, those pretty pink lips now conspiring to carelessly consume his own in captivating, carnal kisses. Their noses knocked lightly as his teeth nipped at Daehyun’s thick lips; Jongup’s body brushed against his own, and settled such that it brought pleasing pressure to the strain growing in his jeans. Those shameless kisses ended as suddenly as they began — not long after his breath had been stolen from his lungs.

“I can’t believe you’re still cockblocking me,” Jongup grumbled.

“No fluids in the compound. You know the rules,” Shishi replied.

“The sooner you get off him, the  sooner  he unmasks the rest of us. The sooner he finishes, the sooner you can get off,” Joko promised.

Jongup groaned in annoyance, but pulled off nonetheless. He left Daehyun there, back pressed flush against the bench, heart pounding, and head aching as he panted and tried to convince himself to sit up. He ran his hands over his red face and fought back the urge to beg.

Harsh hands forced him back to sitting position, with Joko now taking the place in front of him. Daehyun cleared his throat and adjusted the way he was sitting. “So, which are you?” Daehyun teased, “a robot, an alien, or an old man?”

“I’m a robot, clearly,” Joko replied. “Go ahead and see for yourself, pet.”

Daehyun was a bit more confident when he pushed back Joko’s hood. The solid  _ click click _ of the metal strips releasing his white face mask from his yellow biker mask came seemingly without trigger, and Daehyun fully pulled the lower section down before pulling the face mask off like a hood. His cheeks puffed up in a pout to see the cat-like eyes and messy brown hair of his master. Daehyun was still blushing as he pulled the chord of the com out from the mask and then the com itself. He slid it into Joko’s sweatshirt then reached for Joko’s yellow mask.

Under those cat-like eyes were fluffy, sweet cheeks, a button nose, and a heart-stopping smile. Daehyun’s breath stopped in his throat. “I’m Youngjae.”

“Master is adorable,” he barely managed to mumble out. “Youngjae,” he repeated in a breath.

Youngjae’s brightened smile nearly sent him over the edge, but his master’s thick lips met his own before his heart could fully stop, and Daehyun got wrapped up in another heated kiss. Some part of him forgot his place, as he pressed forward and tried to find equal footing in their embrace. Joko moved back the slightest bit and Daehyun followed after him, much too eager to be devoured by his master. Youngjae humored him, and surged back into the kiss. His gloved hand wove into Daehyun’s hair and gripped onto the strands tightly.

Youngjae pulled Daehyun back by the hair when he was finished kissing him. Their foreheads stayed close together and their breaths puffed out onto each other’s lips as he spoke. “Our pet looks prettier the more we kiss him, doesn’t he?”

“Thank you, Master,” Daehyun replied in panted breaths.

Youngjae smoothed down the back of his hair from when he had been pulling, and then stood. “Toto, you’re up.”

Toto settled in front of him, farther away than the others had. It almost seemed as though he moved away when Daehyun reached for him, and like he leaned back when Daehyun scooted forward. Still, Daehyun was able to pull down his hood. After an awkward moment of waiting, the two clicks came, and he pulled the face mask off as well.

The expression on Toto’s face was not as harsh and stand-offish as Daehyun had been expecting, but rather reserved and withdrawn. The shakiness of his hands was renewed as he disconnected the wire and removed his masters mask. “Zelo,” was all he said.

“Zelo,” Daehyun repeated. “Master has such an interesting name.”

Zelo bit his lip and refused to meet Daehyun’s eyes. His fingers drummed against the bench as he bounced his legs in a way reminiscent of Joongi. His cheeks were the shade of cherry blossoms and his features carried all the sweetness and innocence of spring.

“Wow,” Daehyun breathed, “Master is—”

Zelo’s eyes grew double their size in an instant and before Daehyun could finish his thought a sharp crack sent him sliding against the concrete floor, with his hand clutched to his jaw. A low whimper escaped him as he sat, rolling his right shoulder in circles.

“You know, our pet might be afraid of singing your praises if you hit him for no reason, Jelly. You don’t want to be his least favorite, do you?” Youngjae asked.

“What does it matter?” Zelo replied in a soft, cold voice. Distant eyes stared at the bench where Daehyun once sat, and his hands pulled into tight fists as defeatist words fell from his bitten lips. “He’s just going to run away, isn’t he?” 

Zelo stood before Daehyun had even made his way back to the bench, and quickly found his way alongside the other revealed faces.

Daehyun bit back his pout and his whines. It was not his place to demand the attention of his masters. Toto had expressed his intentions for Daehyun well enough, and Daehyun reminded himself that the cold attitude he had didn’t change that his master wanted him in one way or another.

Still, it stung. He wanted them to want him. He wanted Zelo to want him the way Jongup and Youngjae had.

Tats was the next to settle across from him, but Daehyun could not help his discouraged expression. His master reached forward and squeezed at his thighs, right above the knee, and sat still as Daehyun carefully undid his hood and masks. His face was full of perfect straight angles, and small dimples formed when he grinned back at Daehyun’s flushed cheeks. 

“My name is Himchan. It’s nice really to meet you, pet.” he said.

“Himchan,” Daehyun repeated. “Master....” Daehyun trailed off, nervous he would be hit again, but Himchan only smiled and waited. “Master is beautiful,” he mumbled.

Himchan led him forward by the chin until their lips met. The kiss started significantly sweeter than the others had, but once Daehyun had relaxed into it, Himchan bit into his lip hard enough for it to begin to bleed. Daehyun whimpered low in his throat as the kiss turned as harsh and heated as the two previous ones, and Himchan’s hands trailed up his thighs to squeeze the tops of them. He gripped Himchan’s hoodie when he started to feel breathless. Himchan let go of one of his thighs in response, and instead pet Daehyun’s hair.

Himchan’s hand dropped suddenly from Daehyun’s hair, and a moment later he was breaking the kiss and pulling away. Just as suddenly as Zelo had, Himchan stood and joined the others.

Shishi was the last one to sit on the bench in front of him, and Daehyun held his breath as he reached for him. No matter his masters’ appearances, he would want them. The sheer knowledge of who they were was more than enough to make them more attractive than other other being on the planet, but so far it felt as though he had infinite luck. There was nothing that could find going the slightest bit sour with his life, especially when underneath Shishi’s black face mask, he found wise, intimidating eyes staring back at him.

He gulped, as nervous as the first time, as he removed the red mask from his master’s face, and in a breath, without a thought, mumbled, “Master is so handsome.”

He was intimidating. The others, save maybe Jongup when he wasn’t grinning, did not look like hardened criminals with a body count in the thousands to their names. Shishi, on the other hand, looked as though he could snap Daehyun’s neck without even thinking about it. Yet, it wasn’t the sort of scary appearance that was off-putting or creepy, but rather alluring and enticing.

“I’m Yongguk.” His voice was so deep it sent desperate shivers up Daehyun’s spine. His eyes dropped and he made himself smaller without a thought, his swollen red lip tugged between his teeth and his cheeks flushed. Yongguk chuckled at his sudden shyness and Daehyun felt his pants go tight.

There was some amount of hesitation — nervousness, really — as Yongguk reached to take Daehyun’s face in his hands. Yongguk leaned forward, then would pause, then lean forward again, several times over before their lips met, but when they did all awkwardness was abandoned. Yongguk pulled Daehyun forward by his thighs, and then pressed one hand against his lower back and the other to the back of his neck — holding Daehyun as close to him as he possibly could.

Daehyun found him pressed back against the bench again, with Yongguk pressed firmly against as their lips continued moving together. When he finally pulled off, Daehyun’s eyes had glossed over and his lips had swollen up more than they were before. His chest moved up and down considerably as he panted, the flush from his cheeks had covered his face and his neck, and stayed still, back against the bench and his legs spread, as he waited for one of his masters to come pull him up again.

When Jongup did, they had all removed their Matoki suits entirely, standing in jeans and sweaters. Daehyun gulped again and shifted where he was sitting.

“There’s one last thing before we take you upstairs, pet,” Jongup told him. He straddled the bench immediately behind Daehyun, letting him rest against his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around Daehyun’s waist, just as they had the day before. “You just have to hear the rules, and then we can go play.” Daehyun couldn’t fight back his smile.

“First off,” Yongguk was the one to speak, “you cannot speak to anyone about us, not even Inguk. You cannot tell anyone what you do for us, what we look like, or anything of the like. If anyone besides we or your brother speak to you, you must be absolutely silent. Second, you won’t be allowed to leave the house without special permission, and you won’t be able to move within the house without one of us.” Yongguk nodded Youngjae forward.

Youngjae was holding a thick black collar in his hands, with a metal ring at the center, which a small bell with a little white bow on top hung from. He turned it over so Daehyun could see the inside. “You are to wear this collar at all times, unless one of us is taking you outside. It has shock plates here and here,” he pointed to the long, thin strips of metal along the inside of the collar. “We each have devices we can use to change the restrictions on the range of the collar, but in general, you’ll be confined to a room, or if you’re alone, a piece of furniture. If you go a millimeter out of bounds, the collar will shock you just enough to hurt. If you go about a foot out of bounds, it will shock you hard enough to knock you out. If you somehow manage to be a meter out of bounds, it will probably kill you.” While Youngjae was speaking, Jongup unhooked the metal band previously around Daehyun’s neck and the cuffs from his wrists, since he would no longer need to be hidden from the compound’s cameras.

“We’ll tell you where you are allowed to be at any given time,” Himchan promised. “In general, you’ll be confined to whatever room you’re in, and if you’re alone you’ll be stuck to whatever couch or bed you’re on. Touching any of the outside walls will shock you, and so will going within a meter of the doors that lead outside or the door to the basement. Understood?”

“Yes, Master.”

Youngjae straddled the bench in front of him, and Daehyun leaned forward and bowed his head slightly to let him fasten the collar around his neck. “The lock on the back that fastens this together doesn’t have a key. It’s a small scanner that knows our fingerprints. Only the five of us can take this collar off of you; you won’t be able to get it off on your own.”

“Of course, Master,” Daehyun replied. Jongup stuck a finger under the band of the collar and pulled, making Daehyun choke slightly as he straightened up and then leaned against Jongup again.

“I’ll give you a buzzer later, so that if you need us for some reason while you’re alone you can call for us,” said Youngjae.

Yongguk spoke again before Daehyun could thank him. “Third, you are not to have any will of your own. Our will is your will, and you will not disobey or question us. Just do as you’re told. Next, you are not to lie to us ever, for any reason — not to make us happy, not to avoid punishment, nothing. Finally, you are expected to please us. That is your job. That is your duty. So outside of lying, do what you can to make us happy, and avoid saying or doing things that upset us. Generally, if you do as you’re told and don’t lie to us, you’ll please us just fine. If you’re a good servant, you will be rewarded with whatever you’d like, within reason. If you’re bad, you will be punished. And, if for whatever reason you try to escape, you will suffer for years before we let you die. If we need to add more rules we will, but for now your behavior has been good enough that it doesn’t seem necessary.”

“Yes, Master, I understand,” Daehyun replied. 

“Then, time to go upstairs?” Jongup asked eagerly. With the agreement of the others, they led Daehyun through another door on the far wall. The hallway it opened into was long and barely lit, but his masters had no trouble navigating their way down its many offshoots and corridors. 

“Master,” Daehyun called softly, “did you build all of these tunnels?”

“It’s the old subway system,” Youngjae replied. “The city never bothered to fill it in once they switched over to the high-trains, so one of the older generations moved in. The only thing we really did was modify the space we needed for the compound — it used to be a station before the entrance collapsed.”

“And no one noticed?” Daehyun asked.

“A couple people have,” Himchan said, “but dead men tell no tales.”

They weaved through the remainder of the tunnels until they reached a station. Some of the passageways had collapsed, leaving rubble to crunch under their shoes. They climbed onto the platform and walked through the abandoned, dirty halls to the exit — a mostly boarded up staircase into the underneaths of a building. To the side there was a small staircase, and they walked with ducked heads up it and through the door at the top, all of which led into a basement.

The basement was fully furnished to look like a speak-easy, complete with dart boards and a home bar, though despite it all, it was very clearly someone’s home — with jackets thrown on top of the couch and other small homely things.

They led him upstairs and through the relatively normal house, finally stopping in a large room on the third floor with a massive bed at the center. Daehyun gulped, but as much as he was excited, his pounding heart made him feel nervous. “Strip, then get on the bed,” Yongguk ordered.

“Yes, Master,” Daehyun complied. His face flushed as they watched him. Even if they had watched him before, he felt shy with their eyes so focused on him. He let his clothes pool at his feet nonetheless, and sat himself down at the center of the bed.

“Lay down, pet,” Jongup requested, and not long after Daehyun complied, he was climbing on top of him. Jongup’s calloused hands ran up from the skin of his stomach to his chest, then down his arms. He gripped onto Daehyun’s wrists tightly and yanked them above his head. Cool metal bindings soon replaced Jongup’s hands, leaving Daehyun bound to a ring attached to the headboard. “You know how much we want you, don’t you?” Jongup breathed, “We’ve been talking about this moment for months now. But, before we have you, we want to watch you suffer first.”

Jongup’s lips met his in a heated, distracting kiss that left Daehyun unaware of the new dips in the bed as the others joined them. Something cool and hard pressed up against him, and without warning or preparation slipped inside. Daehyun broke the kiss to whimper when the small toy switched on inside him.

“Here’s the game, pet,” Himchan called, “we want to see who has more patience. Will you beg for us because you can’t take it anymore or will we lose our ability to wait? Whoever can hold out longer gets to pick something extra special for us to do tonight.” 

Daehyun’s fleeting confidence was lost the moment the ring clipped around his base, and a loud, desperate whine escaped him before he could choke it back.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daehyun felt the words boiling up in his throat, forcing their release, “please! Please, I’ll do anything! Please, Masters, please just do whatever you want to me! Please fuck me, please! Please, Masters, please, please, please, please. I want you so badly. I need you so badly. I’ll do anything you want; I’ll be anything you want! Please just fuck me, own me, hurt me, kill me, mark me as yours please, Masters! I want to be yours! I’m begging, please, please just fuck me.” He fell into desperate, noisy sobs of the word ‘please’ over and over as the two on top of him pulled away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little bit longer than intended!~ I hope you like it^^ As always, constructive criticism is welcome!
> 
> There's a bit of fanart for this story now!! Please check out [this really awesome art ](http://i.imgur.com/qRgOgWG.png) done by [jongupthesnek](http://jongupthesnek.tumblr.com/) (on tumblr) a.k.a [JAAYBIRD](https://www.asianfanfics.com/profile/view/671630) on AFF!!! It's SO AMAZING AND I'M SO HAPPY (also if anyone else makes fanart pls send it to me T.T it makes my day)
> 
> (Also, as a small side note, due to a little bit of recent problems with my anxiety, I'd really appreciate it if people could refrain from asking for or saying they are excited for more smut. I do really appreciate all of the kindness and love this story has received, and I appreciate all of your comments so, so much. For now, while I'm dealing with this, I'd really appreciate if you could refrain from just and only that — asking for more smut updates. Of course, there will be more, so don't worry. Thank you so much for understanding!)
> 
> [Tumblr](http://brainboxy.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/youngjaebunny) | [AFF](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1222652/)

Daehyun whined and writhed as Jongup continued sucking on his neck from on top of him. The material of Jongup’s clothing was rough against him and he was desperate to feel the smoothness of skin against skin instead. The vibrator’s hum was mostly drowned out by the desperate little sounds Daehyun was making and the soft whispers of the others from nearby on the bed. When he peered over, he found Yongguk and Himchan were in the middle of feeling each other up while they watched, and Youngjae and Zelo were just watching intently, with Youngjae’s head on Zelo’s shoulder. Jongup growled, deep in the back of his throat, upon seeing Daehyun looking at the others, and bit harshly into his neck to draw Daehyun’s attention back to him. Daehyun yelped, and his face quickly twisted up in pain.

“Youngjae,” Yongguk’s deep voice sent a shiver straight up Daehyun’s spine, “why don’t you help Jongup tease him? I think we’ll all get a bit impatient if this takes much longer.”

“I think you just have a thing for watching me give blow jobs,” Youngjae retorted as he crawled forward, “I could decide to just make out with him instead and you’d get mad at me,” he teased. Jongup slid off Daehyun, laying instead by his side, so Youngjae would have space. All at once, Youngjae wrapped his lips around Daehyun’s dick, pushed down to his base, and slid a finger in alongside the vibrator, all while Jongup bit into his shoulder. Daehyun screamed, his chest arching off the bed as his whole body flushed a rosy pink. His cry ended with a needy whimper, but he did not want to disappoint his masters by giving up on their game to early, so he bit back his begging.

When he pulled away from the wound, Jongup had blood dripping from his lips. Daehyun keened, his glassed-over eyes scrunching shut as those bloody lips met his in a searing kiss. It became easier, despite his desperation, not to beg when Jongup was so content in devouring every sound he made.

From below, Youngjae began to move his head up and down while stretching Daehyun out with his finger, and Daehyun could not help but writhe and whine into Jongup’s mouth. Those whines turned to whimpers as Youngjae added a second finger, and those whimpers grew louder and more desperate with every given second until his kiss with Jongup was broken by his screams. He arched off the bed, desperate and needy as he hit his high with no release.”Fuck!” He cried out. His whole body burned underneath them, twisted up in painful pleasure and cursing the ring around his base mentally. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and poured out without him wanting them too.

Daehyun felt the words boiling up in his throat, forcing their release, “please! Please, I’ll do anything! Please, Masters, please just do whatever you want to me! Please fuck me, please! Please, Masters, please, please, please, please. I want you so badly. I need you so badly. I’ll do anything you want; I’ll be anything you want! Please just fuck me, own me, hurt me, kill me, mark me as yours please, Masters! I want to be yours! I’m begging, please, please just fuck me.” He fell into desperate, noisy sobs of the word ‘please’ over and over as the two on top of him pulled away.

“We won then,” Himchan observed, “what should be our prize? What do you think, pet?”

He got more nonsensical, desperate begging and louder sobs in response.

“I liked his begging,” Zelo said, “maybe more of that?” He looked to Yongguk for approval, pulling Youngjae to sit by him again as he did.

“Good idea. If our pet wants anything tonight — more or less, something specific, what have you — he’ll have to beg for it. We were going to do whatever we wanted with him anyway; we might as well have him behaving the way we want him to, too,” Youngjae agreed.

“Then it’s decided. Daehyun will beg for us and we’ll do as we please. Jongup, go first and give him what he’s begging for,” Yongguk instructed. Daehyun hummed deep in his throat, pleased that he would be getting what he wanted.

When Jongup did not immediately climb on top of him again, Daehyun could not help but open his foggy eyes to stare them down with need. He found that all of them had pulled off the bed entirely so that they could strip off their clothing, and watched them with eager eyes as they revealed the mass constellations and rivers of scars across their skin. 

Each’s body was different, as if a different person had left the scars there. Jongup’s traced around the firm muscles of his chest and abs. He was carved with purposeful geometric patterns, with a few burn marks running patterns up his back around his spine. Yongguk’s scars were covered by a number of tattoos, but even then the straight, overbearing lines where skin must have been stripped away stood clear on his torso and arms. Himchan’s marks were like rivers, curving and unpredictable but beautiful nonetheless. Daehyun would argue Youngjae’s scars were the most beautiful, a combination of all the features he saw on the others — geometric patterns, purposeful thick lines mixed with waves to make oceans and rivers across him. His scars carved patterns of paintings too — flowers, Matoki symbols, and words he could not quite make out in his bleary state. Zelo’s were likely the least pretty, and the least pleasant. They were patternless and random, seeming to leave no inch of him untouched by their layers upon layers — burns, cuts, places the skin had been torn away, and things that didn’t seem to heal correctly. Unlike the smooth patterns of the other’s skin, Zelo’s rose into spikes, and it seemed that whoever marked him had did so many times over, leaving no part of him unscathed. 

They caught him looking. He quickly looked away.

“Z, how many times could I hit him without any risk of killing him?” Jongup’s voice came much closer, a sort of rustling accompanying it.

“Given that you’re not the only one going tonight, and he’s probably going to be dealing with a lot worse later on, I’d say no more than ten, total,” Zelo replied.

“Well that’s no fun.”

“You’re the one who decided you wanted to keep him alive,” Zelo replied. “We could have just snatched him from the alley, fucked his brains out, and killed him like normal, but no, we have to wait three months and be careful not to kill him.” Daehyun groaned, bucking his hips up. Something about the idea of them killing him in that way rose the heat in his already desperate state. “What, pest? Do you like being special or the idea that we might kill you?”

“Both,” Daehyun mumbled. He shifted toward Jongup as they all came back to the bed, with Youngjae and Himchan taking spots in Zelo and Yongguk’s laps, respectively. Jongup freed his hands, though Daehyun did not move as much as he wanted to throw Jongup back and ride him. 

Jongup’s rough hands flipped him over, onto his stomach, and his hands were bound to the ring on the headboard again. “Keep your head down,” Jongup ordered as he pressed Daehyun’s face into the pillows, and then he pulled back. Daehyun whined once Jongup had pulled away fully, only to have him return a couple seconds later to pull Daehyun’s hips up until he was balancing on his knees and chest.

A smooth leather cuff attached to Daehyun’s ankle, and Jongup pushed his legs apart before attaching the other. Daehyun’s legs remained forced apart, just past what was comfortable for him, by the bar attached to the two cuffs around his ankles. “Only ten?” Jongup asked to the side.

“Unless no one else is drawing blood or hitting him tonight,” Zelo confirmed. 

Jongup sighed, and flicked the vibrator still running inside Daehyun. Daehyun whimpered, pathetic and needy, “please, Master,” but was met with no immediate response.

Warm breaths ran along the back of his thighs and Daehyun keened and tried to push his hips back. He moaned and stiffened when those warm breaths were followed by sharp teeth tearing into his right thigh. Jongup busied himself with leaving hickeys across the smooth, tan expanses of Daehyun’s thighs, occasionally biting into them to make Daehyun cry out. Once the back of his thighs were marked and sore, Jongup pulled his head away. Sharp leather strings whipped against the inside of his thighs and Daehyun groaned. Jongup was quick and rough about flogging him, and Daehyun could feel sticky warm blood running down from the tears in his skin on either side by the time Jongup had finished.

“Please don’t stop,” Daehyun begged, but Jongup ignored him. The small vibrator inside him flipped off, quickly pulled out and replaced with three of Jongup’s fingers which only stayed long enough to ascertain he was open enough.

“You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” Jongup teased, his hips grinding up against Daehyun’s raw thighs.

Daehyun groaned, deep in his throat, and pushed back as much as he could. “Please, please fuck me. Please — any way you want — anything you want — plea— ah!” Daehyun cried out as Jongup pressed in, stretching him past what they had done with their fingers.

“What a little cockslut,” Youngjae teased from the sidelines, “begging like that. It looks like the only way we’ll be able to shut him up is fucking him.” Daehyun looked over, just for a moment before he returned to his face down state, to watch Youngjae grinding back on Zelo while Zelo jacked him off, Yongguk and Himchan in a similar state.

“Then I guess it’s good he’s such an obedient little fucktoy,” Jongup agreed. He pulled back until only the tip remained, then snapped his hips roughly into Daehyun’s heat. Daehyun cried out, desperate and needy. Jongup set up a quick and bruising pace, his hips slamming hard enough into Daehyun’s with each thrust that it began to push Daehyun forward on the bed. Jongup gripped onto his hips and pulled Daehyun back with each thrust to meet his hips.

“Fuck,” Jongup groaned as he hammered into Daehyun. Daehyun was crying out desperately with each thrust, cursing the cockring still wrapped tightly around his base as another high built up in his stomach.

He didn’t let up for even a second — pounding into Daehyun at that bruising pace, pulling Daehyun back onto his cock over and over, and pressing him down into the bed. His fingers tangled into Daehyun’s hair, pressing his face further into the pillows so that it was hard for him to breathe and Daehyun whimpered, needy, and found himself begging again. His voice was muffled by the pillow no matter how loudly his sobs came, begging, “please let me come, Master. Please, please, oh my god— fuck— please! P— A-ah! Please,” he sobbed, “please, Master. I want to come. Please let me come. O-Oh my god!” He fell again to nonsensical, sobbing pleas as Jongup continued to hammer into him. He was met with relief not long after Jongup began rutting, as he reached forward and pulled the ring off.

“Come,” Jongup ordered through harsh breaths, and Daehyun released with a needy scream. Jongup followed him only a couple thrusts after, a melodic moan filling the room as he released inside Daehyun.

“Was it worth three months?” Himchan teased as Jongup pulled away.

“So worth it,” Jongup replied. Daehyun whimpered, much softer and to himself, as Jongup pulled out. He turned his head to the side to watch as Jongup flopped down on his back by the others, a pleased smile on his bloody lips.

“Youngjae, you can go next,” Yongguk said.

“Why is he getting all the favoritism today?” Zelo asked, a small amount of whining to his tone. “Jongup I understand, he’s the whole reason we went through this bullshit process so we wouldn’t have to kill him when we’re done, but why ‘Jae?”

“Probably because he’s been the one dealing with you and Jongup’s impatience for the past three months,” Himchan cut in.

“Also because this is probably the most injuries he’s going to get tonight. We might as well get it done early so we don’t accidentally kill him later,” Yongguk agreed. “Go on then, there’s no real point in waiting when we know what Youngjae’s going to ask you to do anyway.”

Youngjae sat a bit closer to Daehyun, who was surprised to find it was Zelo bridging the full distance instead. Zelo yanked the bar attached to Daehyun’s ankles so that he fell flat against the bed. “How bad do you want me to make it?” He could hear Zelo murmur. Youngjae must have answered with some sort of action, because Zelo settled kneeling between Daehyun’s bleeding thighs.

Something cool and sharp scraped across his back, not quite enough to draw blood. Daehyun keened, afraid to move because he might ruin whatever beautiful art his master intended to make. Zelo scraped a graph of light red lines into Daehyun’s back, as if testing the response, or maybe biding his time while he debated exactly what to do. 

The pressure of the knife against his skin was sudden and the pain intense as Zelo cut a firm, slightly curved line from the top of Daehyun’s shoulder blade down toward the middle of his back. Daehyun cried out in shock and pain, only getting louder as Zelo repeated the same step in slightly different places on his upper back.  He let out a sobbing whimper when the knife dug into his skin again, cutting a strange, incomplete circle into his back. He breathed in harsh, sobbing pants. 

Zelo took a small section of his mid-back, within the half circle he had cut before, as his next target, and cut a long oval on either side of Daehyun’s spine. Daehyun cried out, loud and pained, and fell into sobbing at the pain spread across his back. From his side, a soft moan came, and he turned his tear-stained face to rest on his cheek as he met eyes with Youngjae. His body had turned flushed and his pupils dilated as he watched the way Zelo carved into Daehyun. When he met Daehyun’s eyes, a sweet smile spread across his face. 

Daehyun was silenced temporarily, afraid and incredibly turned on by how afraid he was. “Zelo,” Daehyun squeaked when Yongguk’s voice came, deeper than it had been before. He was so sensitive and needy. “He’s doing well at hiding it, but we know Daehyun likes this sort of thing. Put the ring back on him before he gets too excited.”

“There’s no way he’s hard from me carving around the tattoo on his back,” grumbled Zelo, but he pulled Daehyun’s hips up, found the cockring, and reached between Daehyun’s legs. Daehyun groaned, deep in his throat and needy, when Zelo touched him, and a surprised intake of air came from behind him. 

“What a little freak,” Himchan teased, “we could beat him half to death and he’d like it.”

“Just look at how desperate he is,” Youngjae replied, his voice having fallen to a gravelly deep tone, laced with his obvious excitement from Daehyun’s pain. “He’ll let us do anything we want to him so long as we fuck him after.” His face morphed into a pleased grin as Zelo pushed Daehyun’s hips down again and resumed carving around the tattoo. Once Daehyun was rather certain the entirety of the Matoki head had been detailed out, Zelo carved something at the top of his back near the nape of his neck. His sobs had turned into pathetic blubbering, trying to beg for more but unable to speak.

From his side, Youngjae groaned a little louder. “Finish up, I want him to ride me,” he mumbled to Zelo. After a couple short, swift cuts to Daehyun’s already bloody, aching back, Zelo dropped his knife on an end table and joined the others toward the side of the bed. As he did, Youngjae reached over to free Daehyun’s hands again.“Sit up, pet,” he ordered. 

With a loud whimper out of pain and shaking limbs, Daehyun managed to bring himself to sit back on his feet. His thighs burned and his back ached; all he wanted was to lie back face first on the bed and let them have him without moving. With a bit of shifting around, Youngjae ended up laying below him with Daehyun straddling him. His legs rested on either side of Youngjae’s hips and he rubbed his ass back against Youngjae’s cock with need. Youngjae ran his hands up the sides of Daehyun’s thighs and squeezed when they reached his ass. 

They shared a moment of eye contact before Daehyun flattened his hands against Youngjae’s chest, lifted himself up, and let Youngjae guide him back onto his cock. They both groaned, deep in their throats, as Daehyun paused to give himself a moment to adjust. His back and thighs ached, and his vision had gone a little fuzzy. He wondered if he should ask to lay back down.

He lifted himself up again and let himself fall back down, letting Youngjae’s hand guide him into the pace he wanted. He ended up bouncing up and down pained but pleased whimpers escaping him with each time he came down. Youngjae thrusted upwards roughly to meet him each time, and it did not take long for Daehyun’s arms to start shaking from under him, threatening to let him fall. He whimpered, deep in his throat, and stilled as Youngjae continued thrusting up into him.

After a minute or so, Youngjae stilled too. “Yongguk, do you want to join us?” He asked. “Daehyun’s already having trouble moving, we might as well tie him up the way you like.”

Yongguk hummed for a moment, as if deciding. “So long as you’re going to follow the rules too, Youngjae,” he agreed. 

The two bent Daehyun down to lie flat against Youngjae, and Daehyun found his hands being bound to the ring on the headboard again. Cuffs were tied to his ankles, binding them to the bottom of the bed, and Yongguk tugged on his collar to attach something to the small ring at the back.

“Yongguk likes it best if you don’t move and don’t make any noise,” Youngjae told him, “but you have a hard time staying quiet, don’t you? Want a little help?” Daehyun nodded. He wanted nothing more than to please the both of them, and would do anything they asked him to. Yongguk pulled his head up by the hair and pushed a small plastic ball, fitted to a gag, through his parted lips. “Look at how pretty his lips are stretched around the gag like that,” Youngjae teased. “It’s fitting that he’s such a slut and he has perfect dick-sucking lips, isn’t it? I bet you love sucking dick too, don’t you, Daehyunnie?”

Daehyun’s soft keen was entirely muffled by the gag, and he nodded into Youngjae’s shoulder to show his agreement. His face burned when they all laughed at him.

They weren’t particularly careful or slow about stretching him, but Daehyun wasn’t really expecting them to be. Yongguk’s slicked-up fingers pressed inside him alongside Youngjae’s dick and stretched just as much as they needed to. “On the list he said he’s done this before, right?” Youngjae asked. Daehyun nodded against his chest. “Then you don’t really need to take so long,” Youngjae said.

“Don’t be impatient,” Yongguk replied. “If you waited three months for this, you can wait three more minutes.” It did not take even that long before Yongguk was pushing in, filling Daehyun to the brim as he cried out around the gag and pressed his hips back.

Youngjae was quick to grab his hips to stop them from moving, and Yongguk yanked on the chain leash he had attached to Daehyun’s collar to cut off his air supply and pull his head back painfully. “Silence,” he ordered.

Daehyun bit into the ball between his lips and dug his nails into his palms as the two began to move inside him. They set up a steady rhythm between them as they pounded into Daehyun while holding him still, as if they were using him as some sort of glory hole to fuck into rather than an actual human participant. Daehyun moaned, stilted and quiet, at the thought that he really was just a fucktoy to them.

Yongguk kept the leash just taut enough to limit Daehyun’s air supply, making him feel lightheaded and dizzy as the harsh pace built up the heat between them. Yongguk leaned down, pressing his torso against Daehyun’s bloody back and a muffled whimper escaped him before he could stop it. Yongguk temporarily pulled the leash tighter, as if it was a punishment, before letting Daehyun gulp in the little air he was allowed again. Beside him, Youngjae and Yongguk met in a searing kiss that matched their bruising pace and Daehyun could not fight the urge to watch them from the corner of his eye. It was enticing and wonderful, and he wanted nothing more than to see all his masters in similar states.

Their kiss broke with a moan from Youngjae — loud, melodic, and pleased. “He’s so tight,” Youngjae groaned, bucking his hips up in a particularly hard thrust that sent Daehyun over the edge. Daehyun moaned and whimpered, his nonsensical sobs coming back though they were now muffled by the gag. “We really can’t shut him up, can we?” He teased.

The two continued pounding into him as Daehyun’s head grew lighter and lighter, until he closed his eyes in hopes that it would stop the spinning feeling in his head. Suddenly, Youngjae’s hips stilled inside him and Youngjae cried out, loud and pleased as he came. Yongguk was only a couple thrusts off from coming himself, and let the leash loose so Daehyun could breath again when he did. The oxygen high pushed another dry orgasm onto him, racking his body with that painful pleasure but no relief. He sobbed, still lightheaded and needy, as the two started to pull off him and pull away.

When Youngjae lifted Daehyun’s face to pull the gag off, the look on his face was almost concerned. “He looks like he’s going to pass out. Should we give him a few minutes?”

He unbuckled the gag as he was speaking, and the moment it was off Daehyun was begging through his tears, “don’t stop! Please don’t stop. Please, please, please don’t stop, Masters. I need you, please. Plea—” Youngjae pet his hair and Daehyun quieted down.

“Even if you’re going to pass out? Even if you do pass out?” Youngjae asked.

“Please don’t stop,” Daehyun stammered, struggling fully with each word. He whimpered and begged again in desperation as Youngjae carefully lifted him off his dick and placed him down on the bed on his stomach again.

“Do you want to go next or should I?” Zelo mumbled to Himchan beside him.

“You go, I like watching you all,” Himchan replied. “Plus, it’s really hot going balls deep when he’s already filled up with cum.”

Zelo crawled forward, his body stretching over Daehyun’s temporarily as he reached for his knife from where he left it on the nightstand. “Please, please Master,” Daehyun begged, his voice weak and quiet, “I want to be art too, please. Please make me into pretty art.”

Zelo shushed him before running the knife down his lower back. He carved up the letters that he had left untouched before, and Daehyun screamed from below him as each cut grew more painful than the last. The pain built and built until he was again reduced to garbled sobs, and he bit into the pillow under his head to try to muffle his cries of pain. Zelo moved on from the letters, and instead began carving patterns around the tattoo and down his arms. They felt flowing and long like the rivers across Himchan’s skin, reaching from the nape of his neck down to his fingertips and Daehyun sobbed harder with each one. 

He tried to beg Zelo not to stop when he put the knife down again, but he was sobbing much too hard for actual speech. Rather than sitting upright again, Zelo remained leaning over Daehyun’s body long enough to bite into his neck, harder than Jongup had before him.

Zelo’s fingers ran up through the stickiness between Daehyun’s thighs, up his back, and over the bite wound before he pressed his bloody, cum-covered fingers to Daehyun’s swollen lips. Daehyun wrapped his lips around them without hesitation, and did what he could to advertise his prowess at blowjobs while he sucked Zelo’s fingers clean.

Zelo forced him up to balance on his chest and knees again, and Daehyun wiggled his hips with anticipation as much as he could as he waited for Zelo to press inside.

When he did, it was immediately accompanied by a fast and rough rhythm. Zelo did not bother to give Daehyun time to adjust, despite being quite a bit longer than any of the others before him, and there was very little warning before he was pounding into Daehyun with sharp and precise thrusts. Below him, Daehyun screamed and groaned, desperate and needy for more despite how dizzy he had become.

Right as he was starting to find it hard to cling to reality, his head was yanked up by his hair, and Jongup settled in front of his face, his cock hard and swollen. Daehyun opened his mouth wide without needing to be told to do so, and moaned when Jongup pushed inside.

His fingers gripped tightly onto Daehyun’s hair as he forced Daehyun’s head up and down slowly until he was certain Daehyun had adjusted. He started to buck his hips up until he was matching Zelo’s pace, and Daehyun was left barely mobile between them. His eyes were half lidded and glossed over, his lips swollen as spit and precum dribbled out the corners of his mouth, and his body rocked between the two of them. Each thrust from Zelo sent his mouth down to the base of Jongup’s dick and each from Jongup sent him back against Zelo’s.

He moaned around Jongup as he rocked between the two of them. His vision was foggy and shaking and he found it harder and harder to grip onto the consciousness he was so desperately clinging to. Zelo’s hand gripped onto the back of his collar to pull his throat tighter against Jongup’s cock, and that was when the world cut out. He faded in and out for hours, never really there for more than a couple seconds before it would all go dark again.

Sharp pain shallow on his chest brought him back to consciousness. His body was sticky and stiff and he could not shift in the slightest without feeling something new and painful. Even the slightest bit of pressure on his ass sent pain up his spine, as if it had beaten black and blue while he was unconscious. He could feel the way their cum had dripped down his face however long ago it must have been, and given that it spread across his cheeks, his lips, and matted down his hair, he could only assume they had come on his face more than once. His throat was raw and sore and as consciousness came he was overtaken by a painful, wheezing coughing fit. He was grateful to whoever was on top of him for pausing whatever they were doing to his chest for as long as he couldn’t breathe.

He whined, deep in his throat and pained, as he settled back on the bed. It took him a minute to open his eyes, but when he did his vision was still blurry and he was dizzy. “He’s actually awake this time,” Himchan observed.

Daehyun groaned softly, his voice weak and crackling. His dick was still hard against his stomach. It seemed they had just forgotten the ring was there and left him to suffer while unconscious. “Are you alright, pet? Is it too much?” Youngjae asked from the side. 

Daehyun turned his head though his neck was stiff, only for his face to quickly flush. Zelo was fucking into Youngjae, though much more carefully than he had been with Daehyun. Jongup was mostly asleep beside them, and Yongguk was staring him down with lustful but sleepy eyes. Daehyun tried to answer only to get caught up in another coughing fit which ended with another pained whimper. “I’m okay,” he whispered in a raw, scratchy voice, “but I might pass out again.”

“We’re getting there too,” Jongup mumbled from where he was falling asleep. “I might go shower and go to bed.” Daehyun fought back a pout as the others convinced Jongup to go on. Daehyun stared at the door once he was gone. With the initial shock of it over, all of the pain he had been in before faded to numbness.

When Himchan pushed in, Daehyun whimpered, pathetic and high pitched. Sharp pain shot up his spine again and he could not help it when he began to cry. Himchan did not seem to notice. His pace was slow but rough, and it was clear that he was tired.

“Flip him over,” Yongguk said. He shifted closer to them, and had to help shift Daehyun’s deadweight corpse of a body around because he could not move on his own. Daehyun’s sobbing continued to grow louder as the numbness he felt before faded back into pain with his increased consciousness. Even then, he did not want them to stop.

“Master,” Daehyun begged, “Master, please. Please let me come. I-It hurts.”

The two of them laughed at him, but still he was met with relief as they pulled the ring off. “What a desperate, pathetic whore,” Himchan teased. “He’s still begging even when he can’t keep his eyes open. I bet you like waking up covered in cum, don’t you? You like being used like a toy, right?” Daehyun nodded. His face turned red as they laughed at him again. 

They shifted around him, until Himchan could bury himself back in Daehyun’s ass and Yongguk was leading his mouth down his thick cock. Daehyun moaned around him before remembering Youngjae had said Yongguk liked it best when he was silent and still. He stiffened and balled his hands into fists to try to stop himself from making anymore noises.

“I guess that’s good then. Pretty little dumbass sluts like you only have one real purpose in life after all, and it’s certainly less annoying when you already know it. It doesn’t really matter if you’re awake or if it hurts, right? It’s not like you really get a say in this — you’re just a tight, warm hole to fuck into until you’re loose and broken. You might as well try to enjoy it,” Himchan continued.

“You were meaner when he was unconscious,” Youngjae accused from off where he was laying, accented by a soft moan.

“I was hornier when he was unconscious,” Himchan replied, “think about how many times we fucked him, ‘Jae. Don’t blame me for being a little off when I’m half asleep.” Himchan continued to drive into him, his thrusts getting harder the closer he got to his climax. He was panting as he went, and he held on tightly to Daehyun’s hips to keep him in place. The cum from all the previous rounds squelched between them and dribbled down Daehyun’s battered thighs. “Fuck, this is what he should always look like. Seriously, look at him. All covered in cum and blood like this, looking like he’s about to pass out or die, but still having someone balls deep up his ass while someone else fucks his mouth. He’s a dirty whore, so he might as well look like one.”

Yongguk was thrusting down his throat with little regard for Himchan’s taunts, and was using Daehyun’s hair as leverage to hold him still. “Fuck, ‘Chan, pull the collar a bit. I want to watch him choke.” Daehyun groaned around him.

Himchan grabbed the back of the collar and tightened his hand into a fist to cut off Daehyun’s air supply. Yongguk barely seemed to notice how much more difficult it became to thrust all the way in, and kept going even as Daehyun sputtered and choked around him, with drool and precum dripping from the corner of his mouth because he couldn’t swallow properly.

Daehyun’s vision grew fuzzier by the minute as the heat built up inside him. Himchan was absolutely right to think he enjoyed this sort of treatment, and with each harsh word or thrust he found himself closer and closer to the edge.

Himchan finished first with a loud groan. He pulled out but didn’t release his grip on the collar. Daehyun was next, though he barely could make a sound with the way Yongguk was rutting into his mouth. It didn’t take long for Yongguk’s hips to still with Daehyun deep throating him, and Daehyun coughed, sputtered, and choked around him as cum joined the dribble coming down his chin. When Yongguk pulled out, Daehyun retched and coughed up cum and drool until there was a small pool on the pillow.

“That’s it for me,” Himchan said, his voice filled with satisfaction, “I’m gonna follow Jongup’s lead.”

“Same,” Yongguk agreed. “Zelo, Youngjae, I assume you’re taking him last? Remember to page the med crew when you’re done, it wouldn’t be worth the amount of time we invested if he bled out tonight.” Daehyun, again, struggled to fight back his pout.

The two were quick to pull Daehyun over to them, and lifted Daehyun over Youngjae’s lap to that he fell back on Youngjae’s cock. Neither wasted anytime in bending him over to lay against Youngjae’s chest, although Youngjae did pet his hair as Zelo was pushing in along side him. Daehyun whimpered, sore and used up. By the time Zelo was fully seated inside him, everything had gone black again.

When Daehyun woke he found he had been washed, bandaged, dressed, and left in a tiny room on a rickety bed with a lumpy, uncomfortable mattress. It was dark and musty, and the small window a couple feet from the bed was dirty, with metal bars giving it the appearance of a jail cell. Besides the bed and the window, the only other things in the room were a small nightstand with a broken leg, an old dresser, and the door. His ankle had been cuffed to the end of the bed with a long chain, presumably because the medical team couldn’t change the restraints on his collar.

His whole body screamed in pain with even the slightest movement, so he didn’t move. He just laid there, covered by the musty duvet, and stared at the closed door. He didn’t want to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously go check out [this really awesome art it's just so cool](http://i.imgur.com/qRgOgWG.png)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would never be enough, would it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!~ Comments and constructive criticism welcome~~
> 
> [Tumblr](http://brainboxy.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/youngjaebunny) | [AFF](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1222652/)

Daehyun stared down the rain pattering against the window pane. He did what he could to remain motionless as even the slightest shift sent pain straight up his spine and through his whole form after so many nights of roughness. The days were long in between, filled with the emptiness around him that worked itself down his sore throat to nestle into an uninjured yet pained part of his chest, right where his heart should be.

He did not want them to stop.

He just wanted more.

There were various time-fillers stuck around his small room, most of which sat in the drawers of his nightstand such that he could reach them without shocking himself, but they held no wonder nor amusement. He did not want placation through things. He wanted them.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He wanted them. Whether or not they had shown him their faces and their bodies, whether or not at least one had come to have sex with him every night since he was brought upstairs, whether or not they wanted him — he wanted them. He wanted more. He could not be satisfied just as a pretty thing to fuck and throw away, no, he wanted all of them in every way.

The rain’s pattering grew louder as time passed, with rolls of thunders and shocks of lightning that went near unnoticed by him outside of slow, uninterested blinks. Would he have been happier if he had stayed downstairs in the compound? If he had never known their faces, their voices, their bodies, nor their names, would he be able to calm to constant longing inside him? Or was he doomed — doomed to always want more? Would he have been satisfied just longing for their faces for the rest of his life? Would it have been enough to placate him with bruises and battery? He did not know. Thunder cracked loud overhead, only a second after the lightning had flashed, and Daehyun decided he would not have been happier — if for no other reason than the constant teasing Jongup and Zelo had put him through while he was in the compound. Surely the need would be similar, if not equal.

The door opened and closed without a single acknowledgement from him, and Himchan approached the bed with a sort of nerve about him usually hidden under a cool, calm shell. When Daehyun turned to him, he melted with relief. He thought Daehyun was corpse-like of late. No, not corpse like, no, Himchan had chosen the word only to throw it away, Daehyun was more of a puppet than a corpse. He certainly could move, and could walk and talk as he pleased, but someone was pulling his strings. Himchan thought that deep in Daehyun’s head, no one was home. They had evicted whoever was there.

He checked his ear briefly to make sure he had returned his com to the small box in his locker in the compound. They all often forgot to do so, and so each had a box of his own with twenty or so of the small devices. He wasn’t necessarily worried of losing it, just of being overheard.

“Daehyun, you want to be a good pet, don’t you?” Himchan asked, his voice high strung and wavering.

“Of course, Master,” Daehyun’s voice was barely there, hoarse and cracking from the coughing fit that immediately overtook him. They had decided to give him a small ‘break’ the night before, and so his throat had been made their main target, though Jongup had tied his knees together and rutted into his thighs instead.

“You’ll do anything I ask you to, won’t you? You’ll let me do anything I want to you, right? A good pet always obeys his Master’s will,” Himchan spoke nervously and shifted from foot to foot.

“I have no will but Master’s,” Daehyun promised softly, “anything the Master wants, he can have.” Thunder cracked again overhead and Himchan seemed to flinch away from it.

Himchan chewed his lip for a long moment and looked around the empty room rather than at Daehyun. It was musty and warm, and he seemed more interested in the particles of dust drifting through the air than in Daehyun. “I want something from you,” he admitted as if it was a dark secret, “something you must be very quiet about. You must promise me that if you speak, it will be no louder than a whisper.”

“I promise, Master.”

“You must promise me that you won’t tell the others. No matter what, Daehyun. You can’t tell them,” Himchan insisted.

“I promise I won’t, Master.”

Himchan gripped his face suddenly, with blunt nails digging shallow crescents into his jaw and his neck bent back at a painful angle. “You can’t tell them any of this happened, do you understand? I’m — I can’t stress this enough, you can’t say a word of it. Don’t give them a single  _ implication _ of what is about to happen in this room. This stays between us, in this moment, never to be brought up again.” His hands were shaking.

“I will never speak of it, Master, I promise,” Daehyun agreed when Himchan released his grip.

Himchan retracted and straightened. “What will you tell them if they ask what happened?”

“Only that Master had a request for me,” Daehyun promised.

“And what if they ask what the request was?”

“I will tell them it isn’t my place to say what one Master wanted or another, and then I’ll refuse to say anything else about it.”

Himchan’s shoulders seemed to sag with relief. “Then— Just— Just, let me do this, alright? Don’t— I need this. I need this. Don’t tell them. After I’m done, forget it ever happened.” If Daehyun had the slightest crack in his devotion, perhaps he would have feared whatever was coming, but as a fanatic he held no thoughts. No matter what Himchan wanted— pain, sex, debauchery, what have you— Daehyun would give it to him without hesitation.

Himchan hesitated again, as if he was amidst a debate of whether or not he should proceed. With a deep breath, he sat down at the head of Daehyun’s bed. “On my lap,” he ordered in a whisper. 

Daehyun winced as he crawled forward and settled with his thighs on either side of Himchan’s. He supposed it was fortunate they had given his thighs time to heal since Jongup had flogged them, now just scabbed lines across his tan skin.

Himchan pulled him closer by the hips, until their chest were flush together, and moved Daehyun’s arms and head as if he was puppet. Once his arms were secured around Himchan’s shoulders and his face was pressed into Himchan’s neck, Himchan wound his own arms tightly around Daehyun’s waist and buried his head in the juncture between his shoulder and his neck.

They were silent as they hugged, and Daehyun fought the small quakes of his body and the tears gathering at the back of his eyes. This was not about him, nor about how he needed this. Even if he was starved for affection, it was not his place to take nor to impose, only to be as Himchan wished and needed. Still, he could not fight the way his body melted against Himchan’s, nor the way his arms tightened around his shoulders. In a moment of boldness, he lifted his head enough to press a soft kiss to Himchan’s jaw before returning the position he had been placed in before. He pretended not to hear the small noise of distress Himchan had made in response, hidden under another roll of thunder. Still, Himchan held him tighter, and Daehyun felt as though he had pleased him.

They were both still for a very long time, under the soundtrack of the pattering rain and the creaking house.

He ran his hand up and down Himchan’s back in a slow, gentle manner, and when there was no dissent from his Master, he threaded the fingers of his other hand through Himchan’s hair to fiddle with the strands. Himchan seemed to stop supporting his own weight, and instead trusted Daehyun’s body to hold him up. “Don’t stop,” Himchan whispered in a soft, crackling voice. Daehyun pressed another soft kiss to Himchan’s jaw, and was met with a quiet “thank you” in return.

He wanted more.

He wanted to know what was running through Himchan’s mind. He wanted to know if Himchan would come back for this again. Why was it a secret? Why did he seem so ashamed? Daehyun wanted every detail from Himchan, but it was not his place. He felt guilty for even enjoying his duties. He felt guilty for even wanting more. It wasn’t his place. He was not good enough to deserve such a thing. He did not deserve any of what his masters gave him because they were gods, and he was nothing — just a fan, just a whore, just a pathetic nobody that constantly begged and screamed with tears in his eyes, probably grating and annoying for his holy masters who only wished for a compliant shell. Daehyun buried his guilt and his longing, because it was not his place. He had no right to desire nor to emotion, and he could not let such frivolous, forbidden follies prevent him from his duty.

When the rolls of thunder had spaced themselves nearly half a minute for each flash of lightning, Himchan pulled back. His face was red and ashamed. No matter how Daehyun tried, he refused to meet his eye. Was it really so shameful? Daehyun pushed back the tears at the back of his eyes and calmed himself quickly. If it was shameful, he would not disappoint his masters by showing his neediness. Daehyun had no purpose nor worth outside of them, to insult or disappoint them would remove all reason for his existence.

“Master,” Daehyun whispered, “if you ever need this again, please come to me. I promise I won’t tell a soul.” 

“I won’t,” Himchan hissed. He quickly grew rigid, then pushed Daehyun on his back so he could stand freely. “I’m not like you weak, sensitive humans. Youngjae’s the most sensitive among us and even he doesn’t need pathetic things like this. Erase it from your memory. It never happened. It wasn’t real. I— I am your master so I decide what reality is for you, and that didn’t happen.”

“Yes, Master, nothing has happened,” Daehyun complied.

Himchan did not say another word, instead quickly pulling out the small device they used to change Daehyun’s collar and motioning for Daehyun to follow him down to the kitchen. Walking was unpleasant, but certainly not impossible, so he quickly limped his way down the narrow three flights of stairs to the spacious, clean kitchen. 

There was a flat, square pillow sitting near one of the walls, and Daehyun was quick to fix it into the square of tape next to the wall and sit. A moment later, Himchan switched his collar down to that square. Another similar tape square with another flat pillow sat next to one of the chairs at the table. Daehyun watched in silence as Himchan cooked breakfast for the others, who slowly filed in as the aroma of food wafted through the halls telling them their meal was almost done.

“Who’s turn is it to feed Daehyun?” Jongup asked as he pulled the collar-restriction changing device from his pocket.

“We don’t have time today,” Yongguk replied, “he’ll have to sit at the table and feed himself.”

When Jongup motioned him forward, Daehyun sat at one of the chairs of the table, feeling nervous and awkward to be placed at the same level at them. They never let him feed himself, and to do so almost felt like he was expressing a free will that he was not meant to have. Soon enough there was food in front of all of them, and the others chatted as they ate.

“It must be shocking for you, right, Daehyun?” Youngjae asked him with a mouth full of food.

“What, Master?” Daehyun asked.

“How different we are from our Matoki,” Youngjae clarified. “None of us are anything like them, right? I’m sure it took a little while to adjust to that.”

Daehyun continued to stare blankly at him. Had they really been acting differently?

“Like Yongguk,” Himchan offered as an example. “Shishi is so controlling and rule driven, but Yongguk’s nothing like that at all. Shishi is constantly telling everyone what to do, but Yongguk mostly goes with the flow of what other people are doing.”

In almost direct contradiction to Himchan’s words, Yongguk interrupted him to tell Zelo to chew with his mouth shut.

“That, and, Shishi is really violent,” Youngjae agreed, “meanwhile Yongguk wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Daehyun furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but did not speak for fear of upsetting them.

“Jongup and Zelo too,” Youngjae insisted, “Dada and Toto are both so cruel and violent. If you only knew them, you’d think Dada was emotionless and silent, while Toto was a vicious jerk. Instead, neither is really violent or mean at all.”

Daehyun thinned his lips for a moment and wondered if it would be lying to agree to their nonsense just to appease them. So far they had acted the same in his opinion, masked or not, but it seemed this was something very important to them. “I hadn’t really thought of it, Master,” Daehyun settled on, “I was so blinded by how much I admire the Masters that I didn’t think of the differences in your behavior.”

“You see it now, don’t you?” Youngjae asked. Daehyun nodded, just to please him. “The first Matoki set out the characters, we just play the roles.”

It was silent for several minutes before Jongup spoke, “Himchan, are you headed to the precinct today or can you help Zelo and I hang up the newbies we picked up?” 

“Commissioner Woo still has a warrant out for my arrest, so I’ll be avoiding the precinct for a while,” Himchan replied. “Don’t look so concerned, pet. This happens to nearly every Tats at some point. They think we work for the Matoki to some degree and some dumbass always thinks they can bargain by arresting us,” he told Daehyun. “Anyway, I can’t help either. I’m going to go meet with Tats from fourth gen about reintroduction into the precinct now that I’ve been ousted temporarily.”

“Damn,” Jongup whined. “There are too many of them to hang up right now. We might even run out of rooms.”

“I hate how these dumbasses come out of the woodwork whenever we’re at odds with the police. Just because we haven’t killed a bunch of police officers yet doesn’t mean street rats should be challenging us,” Zelo said.

“They’re a nuisance, but at least we can contain them quickly. Once Commissioner Woo is dead, they’ll all crawl back into whatever sewer hole we usually allow them. What’s going to be a bigger concern is getting my warrant lifted once this is over,” replied Himchan.

“‘Jae said he had you in holding, how’d you get out?” Jongup asked.

“Two of our cops let me out when he was off making a press release about arresting me. They’re not always the smartest, I’ll give you that, but at least they knew how to stage a proper prisoner escape.” Himchan seemed nonchalant about the whole ordeal. “I heard he got roasted on the news. There’s a pool among the guys in the precinct for when we’re going to off him.”

“How long until Inguk kills him, again?” Zelo asked, a sort of detached boredom in his speech as he pushed around his food instead of eating it.

“Eat,” Yongguk ordered. “You have a lot of work today, there’s no time for you to dawdle.” 

Zelo was quick to duck his head and do as he was told.

“Two days,” Youngjae replied. “He’s got all of his preparations set as is, and I can’t really find any flaw in them, so we won’t even really need to worry about cleaning up his mess. The other’s are pretty convinced he’s on level 3.”

“Don’t tell them otherwise, they’ll throw a tantrum if they find out we gave this job to someone in level 63,” Himchan advised.

“I’m not saying anything,” Youngjae replied. “I don’t need to blow my own cover by knowing more than someone at level 3 should.” He shrugged. “He’s not really talkative outside of the plan, so I doubt he’ll spill what level he’s on either.”

“I’m still don’t think you should be involved in this,” Zelo grumbled. 

“We’ve used my level 3 alter ego a million times, Jelly,” Youngjae reassured. “This time is no different either. I’m just going to sit in the compound and do drudge work like frying their cell phones. Nothing could go wrong.”

“Maybe not, if Jongup hadn’t suggested we put some unloyal pest in charge just because he likes fucking his whore of a brother,” Zelo replied.

“I suggested it because he’s good!” Jongup defended. “Every time I get an update from his boss, it’s just a bunch of questions as to why he’s at the bottom. If we leave him there, the guy’s going to get suspicious and he might find out about Daehyun.”

“So?” Zelo asked.

“So the rules are pretty clear, if someone finds out about the situation with Inguk and Daehyun, we have to kill the both of them,” Jongup said.

“Again, so? I don’t give a shit about Inguk, and we can just get another fucktoy if Daehyun’s dead.” Daehyun blushed slightly. Yongguk had said they were busy, so now was certainly not the time to get hard thinking about them murdering him. It didn’t help when Jongup squeezed his thigh. 

“It’s not sound investing to wait three months and then kill him after three weeks, Jelly,” Youngjae cut in.

“Agreeing to this is the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever done,” Zelo replied in a huff.

“Enough.” Yongguk’s voice was near growling. “I’ve made my decision about how this is going to go, Zelo, so stop acting like a child. Youngjae knows how to cover his trail.”

Zelo slammed his cutlery on the table and stood so quickly his chair fell over. In an instant, he was out of the room, and it was not long before they could hear him punch through a wall in another room. 

“There’s vases for you to break in the hall closet,” Himchan called with very little concern in his voice. Soon the sound of those smashing into the wall came from a bit closer by. “He’s never going to grow out of this, is he?” Himchan tutted.

“At least he’s stopped freaking out when Yongguk’s out on work. Joko is a lot easier to keep in the compound than Shishi is,” Jongup murmured back.

“It’s still inconvenient. I can handle myself,” Youngjae grumbled. Daehyun couldn’t quite catch what he said next, but he thought he heard the words ‘blacking out’ among the muttered syllables. The rest of breakfast went by in the silence, and eventually Zelo finished breaking vases and joined them again to pout and quickly eat his food.

“Let’s go to work,” he told Jongup the moment his plate was clean. “I want to kill someone and I have a feeling you’ll yell at me if it’s Daehyun.”

They had all finished around the same time, and so after fixing the restrictions on Daehyun’s collar again, they all headed down to the compound again, excluding Himchan who split ways with them in the tunnels. Daehyun probably would have been beaming over the fact that he was allowed to come with them if it hadn’t been for the tense atmosphere.

The others paused in the locker room to get changed, but Youngjae instead pulled Daehyun into that strange room he had since learned was called the ‘den’. “You can sit on my lap again,” Youngjae offered. “Feel free to cuddle if you want, but don’t block my arms.”

Daehyun bit his lip as he settled onto Youngjae’s lap. He told himself it wasn’t his place to react beyond following orders, but without any desperation or need for the affection from Youngjae, he was having a hard time convincing himself to fight back how he was feeling.

At first, he did not cuddle into Youngjae at all. He sat rigid and still like a corpse doll, but it did not last long. Youngjae took it upon himself to press Daehyun back into a more comfortable position, and ran a hand up and down his side while he waited for all of his computer systems to wake up.

Daehyun fought back tears. He needed it, but he could not ask. It was a selfish thing for him to want. It was selfish for him to ask for anything from them when he had clearly already inconvenienced them so much. He tugged his lip between his teeth but still found himself relaxing into Youngjae. Had they been more affectionate with him when they were Matoki? He wasn’t sure, and he tried to argue with himself that his loneliness only stemmed from how busy they were of late. It was all Commissioner Woo’s fault, and once he was dead they would surely give him what he wanted, right? There was no reason to ask, that’s what Daehyun told himself. Himchan’s harsh rejection earlier reminded him of that too. Still, there were those pesky tears in his eyes that he refused to let fall.

Youngjae drew them out of him with a gentle kiss to the top of his head and a whisper of the words, “good boy”. Daehyun had squeaked, and a moment later he was crying, as much as he didn’t want to be.

“Sorry,” he repeated over and over like a mantra. His guilt multiplied as Youngjae pulled him closer.

“Daehyun? Are you okay?” Youngjae asked. Daehyun cried harder.

“What’s going on?” Yongguk asked from the doorway, Jongup and Zelo standing behind him. Jongup and Yongguk were fully dressed, while Zelo hadn’t pulled his mask on yet.

“I don’t know?” Youngjae replied, fully confused and possibly a little concerned. “I praised him and he just started crying. He won’t stop apologizing.” Jongup and Yongguk, or Dada and Shishi, he supposed, left without another word. It was an instant reaction, as quick as they were uncomfortable. There wasn’t a single thing said by either, not even an acknowledgement that they had heard Youngjae before they were gone. “I told you, Himchan, I don’t know why he’s crying,” Youngjae said to the com in his ear.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Zelo asked. “He’s crying because he can’t take it. He’s crying because he’s weak. I told you! He’s not strong enough to handle us. You can’t grab some random pathetic whore like him and expect him to survive us! Maybe he won’t run away, I don’t know, but he’s crying and we all damn well know that means he can’t take it.”

“Maybe he’s just horny or something?” Youngjae did not seem to believe his own suggestion. “He cries whenever he gets needy. Dae, tell me what’s wrong?”

Daehyun was too ashamed to admit to anything.

“I’m telling you—what’s wrong is that he’s too weak!” Zelo insisted. “He’s a sensitive little pest and it was a mistake for us to treat him any differently than normal. He shouldn’t be here, and he knows it, and that’s why he’s crying like some pathetic nothing! How many times does he have to pass out, start screaming in pain, or cry before you guys realize that he doesn’t deserve to be here. He’s too weak to belong to the Matoki. He’s too sensitive for this place. If you really didn’t want him to cry, you’d just put him out of his misery and let me kill him already.”

“You’re not helping,” Youngjae replied.

“What is there to help? Nothing we do will stop him from being a weak, needy crybaby. He can’t handle this kind of life! He can’t handle us! And he sure as hell doesn’t belong here! He’s just—”

“I said you’re not helping!” Youngjae yelled. “Just go kill someone already! Get out of here!”

The door slammed behind Zelo, but Youngjae did not make any effort to comfort Daehyun once he was gone. “Go lay down on the couch until you’re done crying,” Youngjae ordered in a grumble.

Daehyun did as he was told, and found himself crying just a bit harder.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was it ungrateful of him? He always wanted more. It was never enough for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!~ Comments and constructive criticism welcome~~
> 
> [Tumblr](http://brainboxy.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/youngjaebunny) | [AFF](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1222652/)

It wasn’t until three days later that he saw them for any length of time. His meals had been taken to his room, where he remained confined to his bed, and frequently they were brought by someone on the medic team rather than his beloved masters. He was allowed time to stand and stretch only when he pressed onto his buzzer that called their attention to him, at which point it would beep to alert him the path to the bathroom, again outlined with red painter’s tape, was clear for him to walk on, and would remain as such until he sat on the bed again.

It only really enforced the idea that his outburst had been shameful. Surely this was his punishment, wasn’t it? No amount of pain nor bodily harm could really bring any shame to him, he’d always enjoy it, but to deprive him more in his already constant state of desperate obsession, that was the cruelest punishment. He must have disappointed them. It became clear to him, quickly and painfully, that his expression of emotion and his need for affection were shameful and uncomfortable for them, and so he resolved himself to fight it. To disappoint his masters would be unacceptable.

Jongup had come for him on the morning of that third day, with a sort of palpable discomfort in his expression as he approached Daehyun like a scared animal. He was quiet beyond his instructions for Daehyun to follow, and they went to the kitchen together where he sat on his cushion in its taped square and ate whatever Jongup fed him with all the quiet obedience he could muster.

Daehyun would not look them in the eyes, nor would he break his rigid form. He kept his voice quiet and his words subservient in hopes of showing he really did feel sorry for his wrongful tears several days beforehand.

There was very little talk amongst the five of them, excluding Youngjae’s complaints that he was tired and would have liked to sleep in and Yongguk’s short announcement that they would be meeting in the living room after to discuss the mission from the night before and the aftermath in the week after. Daehyun did not let his shoulders sag in relief, despite knowing that Yongguk’s words meant Commissioner Woo was dead. He had promised himself not to respond to anything unless asked to, to be as they wanted him to be.

It was Daehyun second time ever in the living room when they went in there, but he needed no instructions on where he was meant to sit. Another cushion in a tape square was set next to one of the couches, and he sat without a glance anywhere else in the room.

It was a large room, he knew that for sure. Every room in the house was large besides his own in the attic. It had the same dark wood flooring as the kitchen, the same bookshelves built into the walls as the basement, and all the basic furniture one would expect from a living room. Perhaps it was a little surprising to him how normal their home was, as if they were just friends that had chipped in to afford a nice upper middle class home together. It was nicer than anywhere Daehyun had lived in the past, that was for sure, but it wasn’t lavish or luxurious. It was no mansion and it was no dingy, secret lair. That juxtaposition of how strange it all was in such a normal setting felt dissonant, and left a constant faint buzzing in the back of his mind that something was wrong.

When he finally tuned in to their meeting, they had already begun discussing the mission from the night before. “Youngjae, how’d Jongup’s experiment go?” Yongguk had asked. He was on an armchair, perpendicular to the couch so that it faced the window rather than the television mounted on the wall.

“I’m starting to see what he meant about Inguk being wasted on the lower levels. He needed a little guidance here and there, but the mission went well enough,” Youngjae said from his position at the larger couch, “and if he can manage something like that with no training from us, just his past experience, then clearly we should be using those talents.”

“Was it his idea to blackout the media? And that ridiculous video loop of gen 1 and the old news reports?” Himchan asked with a sort of laugh. He, and Jongup next to him on the loveseat, imitated the speech of the video in question while laughing at each other. It seemed to just be comprised of news anchors stammering out the words ‘The Matoki’, with the occasional deadpanned statement, “The Matoki are dangerous, especially when they’re angry.”

“No, gen 3 Joko suggested earlier in the week and Yongguk agreed. The chaos is a bit funnier than I was expecting,” Youngjae laughed. “Media coverage will be back up once I’m at work for the day. Level 13 and I are going to be a little heavy-handed, but we’ll let them report again.”

“Zelo, Jongup, anything to add?” Himchan asked, looking between the two.

“Level 5 sent us the blood they collected before the explosion. They managed to get about three pints from each victim, making for a total of 12 pints of blood,” Zelo reported. “For the most part, that’s being distributed to level 55 for painting, however in the interest of getting Woo’s blood on as many precincts as possible, we’ve mixed some red paint and aerosol in and put it in spray paint cans. Jongup and I thought we should send those out with level 3 since they’re planning on painting actual cop buildings.”

“Good, make sure it gets done within the next three days,” Yongguk ordered. “If that’s all there is to say about that, let’s move on to what all of you plan on doing this week. Zelo?” He seemed to hold no amusement in the actions of the others, and no real deviation nor distraction from the task at hand except for the occasional, brief flickers of his eye to where Daehyun was sitting rigidly and properly. Daehyun never met his eye, so he had no guesses at to what the reason was.

“I’m taking over distributor duties from Jongup this morning since he’s busy, then from this afternoon on, I’m strictly on pest management and punishment. Permission to go outside on official duty?” He asked.

“Why do we still have that rule?” Youngjae cut in. He sounded frustrated. “Zelo’s not about to go on a rampage, he should be able to leave for work like the rest of us. It doesn’t make sense to keep it.”

“We don’t really have a choice; gen 5 Toto was so unstable that they elected to make it non-repealable. Given that we don’t know what the next generations are going to be like, it’s probably best we accept it rather than release any future less-stable-than-Zelo Totos on the world,” Himchan replied. 

“Regardless, granted,” Yongguk said. “Jongup?”

“I’m taking Daehyun to meet Inguk this morning, and after that I’ll be helping Zelo and playing distributor. I thought Daehyun could come back to watch Zelo and I work now that things are a little less desperate,” Jongup replied. 

Despite his stiff determination to be quiet and unmoving, the sudden promise of two rewards had him beaming a smile they all remembered well — that sort of endearingly unstable smile he took on whenever he got what he wanted. They did not seem offended by his emotion as he assumed they had been before, but rather just laughed at him. Zelo, from is position nearby, knocked him lightly over the head, and Daehyun took it to be some sort of acceptable affection rather than overt aggression.

“He’s a pink suit now, and that mask has no voice box so you’ll have to give him a com while he’s masked,” Youngjae reminded.

“Just take him upstairs if you suddenly feel the need to injure and/or fuck him. We’re still not allowed to get any of his DNA on anything down there without destroying it,” Yongguk ordered. “Youngjae?”

“I’ll be with level 13 for the next four days or so— monitoring the news and nudging everyone in the right direction as far as finding a new Commissioner goes,” Youngjae replied. “After that, I’ll be back to running things from the compound, and probably playing around with the pods now that we have them running again.”

Zelo screamed into a pillow, which Daehyun supposed was a sort of progress in comparison to breaking seven vases against the wall.

“Do you need to break something?” Himchan asked with some amount of disinterest. “There are more vases in the hall closet if you need them.” When there was no response, Daehyun risked raising his eyes to find Zelo’s face still buried in the pillow. “Or Daehyun is next to you, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind sparing a finger or two.”

“I’m taking a pod there, their compound is in an old metro station too, and I’ll take a pod back,” Youngjae placated. “Nothing can go wrong.”

Zelo spent another couple of seconds with his face pressed into the pillow, a sort of panting coming from behind it as if he was trying to smother himself, before he left the room to break a couple more of the vases from the hall closet.

Yongguk sighed. “Himchan?”

“Mostly just meeting with our cops to get them to fix this whole warrant thing, but I think I’m also going to be called in for a lot of PR once Youngjae turns the news back on,” Himchan said. “Youngjae, can you have a pod waiting in that metro stop two streets from the precinct in case I need to make a quick getaway?”

“Sure, but make sure no one sees you going through the entrance,” Youngjae agreed. It was silent for a moment or two, until Zelo’s footsteps stomped downstairs to the basement, at which point Youngjae began to grumble, “it’s not fair that he’s like this. I get that it’s better than being an uncontrollable mass murderer like gen 4 or gen 5 Toto, but I have a job to do and I can handle myself. He or Jongup can’t come with me every time I need to leave the compound, it’s just not practical.”

“I’m not sure that it’s about you being able to handle it,” Jongup placated. “He’s just a weird kid.”

Himchan chimed in next, with a sigh of his own, “At least it not like right after we won, remember? He’d throw a fit whenever you or Yongguk were out of sight.”

The soft conversation was quickly hushed and forgotten as the others left to get to work for the day while Jongup came to sit across from Daehyun on the floor. There was a sort of shakiness to his hands, caution like he thought Daehyun might pull away, as he reached for Daehyun neck. He pulled him forward by the back of his neck and pressed their lips together, and when he pulled away Daehyun’s collar was in his hands.

“You won’t wear your collar when I take you outside,” Jongup explained, placing it on the table, “we don’t need to arise suspicion or interest like that. You also won’t call me ‘master’ while we’re out there. You can call me ‘sir’ or you can call me ‘Moon’, understand? The same applies for the others, although they’ll give you a different name. I’ll be the one taking you to the cafe to meet Inguk every time he earns it, and you must only talk to he and I while we are out there. We own the shop, so they’ll always have a private room open for us, but that doesn’t mean you can talk to the staff. Understood?”

“Yes, Master,” Daehyun answered.

“You must stay by my or Inguk’s side at all times, and you must sit on the inside of the booth. I will be there through the entire meeting, and you will have no way of knowing if the others can hear you through our coms or not. You can talk about basic things you feel about your work and us, things like ‘happy’ or ‘excited’, but you cannot specify any information about what you do for us or what we are like. I think blanket statements like ‘terrifying’ or ‘amazing’ are acceptable, but limit yourself carefully. I will be using one of my alternate identities while we are out, so be careful not to imply that I’m one of the Matoki. Finally, while we are outside you must follow everything I say with complete and immediate obedience,” Jongup said.

“I understand, Master.”

“What’s my name?” Jongup asked.

“Your name is Moon, Sir,” Daehyun replied.

Jongup gave him a wide grin and then the two went on. Rather than out the front door, they exited through the basement into the subway station, where Jongup led him to a lower platform than they had came from before. There were several of the old two-person cars the high-trains used to use when they were still being tested there, all flipped upside-down to accommodate their position on the ground instead of the air. Jongup led him into one of them, where they sat on the floor with the chairs dangling above them, and Jongup played with the upside-down screen until it indicated it was going to the cafe.

The rocketed down the metro tracks with complete silence, as the high trains were meant to be, until they stopped suddenly, not at another station but rather a small door, where they were able to slowly make their way out into the middle of an alley, into the coffee shop at its head, and then further back into a small private room where Daehyun sat on the inside of the booth and Jongup ordered them both coffee.

“About…” Jongup stared blankly at the wall as he spoke, and then paused to rub his face with his hands, “...about three days ago,” a deep, nervous breath, “are you—? Did you—? I-I mean, do you—? Are we—? Please don’t—” Jongup couldn’t seem to get the words he wanted to say out properly, and with each failed phrase he just seemed more frustrated. “I hate this,” Daehyun heard him grumble under his breath. “I wish Jae was here; he understands this shit.” Jongup buried his face in his hands and Daehyun tried to piece together what he wanted to say. “You cried a couple days ago,” Jongup settled on.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Daehyun replied.

“Don’t— You know we—” another deep breath, “try not to do it again.” There was a palpable awkwardness between the two of them, as Daehyun could not really promise such a thing and Jongup couldn’t quite say what he wanted. The minutes ticked by with no other words between them, until they were fortunate enough to have the waitress enter the room with their coffee, and Inguk came not more than a minute later.

Jongup stood to greet him, and to let Daehyun out of his side of the booth. “Nice to meet you. I’m Moon, 12. I’ll be playing chaperone for your visits.”

“Seo, 63,” Inguk replied. Jongup pulled Daehyun up out of the booth by the arm and then sat back down. Before either could really think about it they were hugging, and it wasn’t long until Daehyun was sniffing into his shirt. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that,” Inguk laughed. “At least let me sit down before you start being a baby.”

So Daehyun quickly sat himself on the inside of the booth and cuddled into his brother’s side the moment he sat down next to him. “Man, mom raised you to be a weakling,” Inguk laughed.

“You raised me to be a weakling,” Daehyun shot back, with no hurt in his shaky voice. “It’s not like she was ever home, and your dad went to jail before I was old enough to remember him. If I’m anything, it’s your fault.”

Inguk hit him over the head, “I did not raise you to be a crybaby, then. Seriously, what if Moon over there reports this to bosses? Won’t you seem a little ungrateful for the great present they’ve given us?” Still his voice was teasing, affectionate. It was almost less harsh than Daehyun was used to, as if Inguk had become uncertain of how to behave around him during their four months of absence.

Daehyun’s eyes flickered over to Jongup, struck by the complete look of discomfort and confusion on his face. “I hope I don’t get in trouble. I really can’t help it.”

“I know you can’t, which is why I’m so amazed at how much you sucked when I needed you to pretend to cry.” They were quiet for just a moment. “Am I allowed to ask you about how you like your work?” He was careful, his speech slow and a little nervous.

“I like it very much. I’m so happy, really, I’m ecstatic. The bosses are the best, and I’m amazed by them,” Daehyun said.

“Am I allowed to ask you if all the problems you told me about before were resolved?” Inguk asked.

Daehyun looked to Jongup, completely unsure. Jongup ran his hand through his hair and shrugged, “I don’t think there’s a problem with you speaking about your problems with him so long as you’re quiet and nonspecific.” There was some sort of curiosity in his eyes.

Daehyun gulped and turned back to his brother. “You were right before. I did as you said and it resolved itself quickly.” He paused, nervous, but Inguk waited to see if there was anything else he might say. “The only problems I am having now are because of who I am. The bosses are perfect in every way, but I am still lacking and growing into something that could please them. They’ll— the problems, I mean— go away when I learn to be what I’m supposed to be, instead of what I am.”

“You don’t have to be that cryptic,” Jongup commented. Daehyun wondered if he was being egged on just because Jongup wanted to know.

Inguk seemed to be waiting for him to specify as well. “I’m just still adjusting to… I don’t know— you know, before, you always let me hang all over you, and as much as I hated the others Jisub, Ahin, and Joongi would usually let me cuddle with them when you were gone and— I’m just adjusting to it, you know? To the fact that that kind of physical affection is gone now.”

Inguk laughed and pulled Daehyun closer to his side. “This is what I get for worrying over you so much when I got custody, isn’t it? I babied you for ten years and made you into a clingy crybaby.” Inguk was different than before, Daehyun thought. He was less cruel, less curt, and spending a lot more time on their past. It was as if the distance had made them awkward, and Inguk was acting strange to hide the strangeness he felt. He hadn’t even mentioned the bruises and bandages visible across Daehyun’s skin, when before that would have been the first thing he mentioned.

Daehyun wondered if they would grow apart. Would there be a day that he looked at his brother and didn’t recognize him anymore?

They barely had an hour together before Inguk was called off to work. Once he was gone, Jongup made them wait for ten minutes before he would leave, then quietly pulled Daehyun out the back entrance of the cafe and back into the narrow tunnel to the metro. Their pod went all the way to the compound, where two other similar pods were waiting, and Daehyun spent the rest of his day watching Jongup and Zelo first care for, in the most minimal sense of the word, and then torture the hordes of prisoners they had there.

Daehyun had been given the hoodie from the pink locker to wear, though it was different from the suits they wore. While theirs were one piece of continuous cloth made to look like several articles of clothing and then a hoodie overtop, all that was in the pink locker was a pink hoodie, with a built in face mask and gloves. He was given a small com with instructions on how to use it and a white mask with a pink heart at the center. The inside of the mask had a lot of tech, but the only thing that was explained to him were the releases to separate it from the face mask when it was time to unmask— two buttons on the far edges of his cheek that he was meant to press with his tongue through his cheek.

He realized the downside to the com and the mask rather quickly. While he took comfort and enjoyment in hearing them, unfortunately it also meant they could hear him. He didn’t speak unless spoken to, of course, the problem was more that watching Jongup and Zelo at work turning terrible traitors into terrifying art was rather exciting for him, and having the others hear and tease him over his small gasps and shaky breaths was rather embarrassing.

He would have thought worse of the situation if it hadn’t been for the fact the his excitement seemed to be distracting to them, with a sudden promise they would all play with him that night just so they could hear him screaming for more.

That was how he ended up on his back in that large room again, with his legs spread and shaking at the large vibrator buzzing inside him. Usually they would use smaller toys than this to keep him tight when they decided to remove it in favor of fucking him, but that night instead they had chosen one large enough to cause him to cry out in pain as it was pushed in without prep, pleased but pained as it was immediately switched to its highest setting. 

“We figured we’d play a game tonight since you’re so eager,” Youngjae had told him as he ran his fingers through Daehyun’s hair. “You remember the game we played with you before you were here, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” Daehyun breathed.

“Why don’t we try that again? We’re going to leave this on at its highest setting for as long as you can take it, pet. No matter how much you scream or beg to be fucked we aren’t going to take it out. We’re just going to watch you and wait until you pass out, then we’ll all play with you all night,” Youngjae’s voice was lilting and pleased and Daehyun groaned in the back of his throat at their plan, already hard and desperate for them.

“He’s still such a whore,” Himchan was laughing at him. “Look at how desperate he is already, how quickly he just turns into a pathetic, needy toy. It’s almost sad how much he likes it when we use him like this.”

“I like that he likes it so much.” Youngjae pressed a warm kiss to Daehyun cheek, drawing out a small, truly pathetic whine. “Good boy,” He added in a whisper, almost lost under the hum of the vibrator. 

Daehyun whined louder, his face and neck red and his cock hard against his stomach as the vibrator racked his insides. “Please use me, Masters,” Daehyun begged, “please do anything you want to me.”

“What’s the point in begging when you know we already plan to?” Youngjae replied.

When Youngjae pulled away, much to Daehyun’s dismay, the only sounds left in the room were Daehyun’s moaning and the hum of the vibrator inside him. He looked — briefly, anything more than a couple seconds and he would be spanked — to find Youngjae had found his way onto Yongguk’s lap, with Zelo leaning on both of them from the side. On Yongguk’s other side, Himchan and Jongup were sitting close together and teasing each other. Daehyun liked to watch them when they were touching each other or kissing, as he found all the members broke through their stigma against physical contact the moment their clothes were off and the promise of sex was in the air.

He stole glances, occasionally, as his need grew and they grew more eager with each other. They were doing what they could to resist him, but Daehyun secretly loved the way he could see their lust grow every time he let out a loud, melodic moan.

“Please,” Daehyun lip quivered as his first orgasm started to near. There was no ring around his base to make it less pleasant, but no toy could ever compare to them. Nothing would satisfy him but them. Nothing would be enough for him but them. He wanted them, and he would make them want him. “Please, Masters, please fuck me. I— ah! Fuck— I want you so badly,” another melodic, needy moan escaped him, “so badly. A-Ah! O-Oh my g-god, please, please, please, please, please. I’ll do anything you want, please just—” He screamed suddenly, coming in hot spurts over his chest. His scream ended in a loud groan of discomfort as the vibrator continued on inside him, although he would have been less happy if they had turned it off.

“What are the exact rules of our game again?” Youngjae asked, his voice having dropped lower than usual.

“We can’t take the vibrator out until he passes out. That’s it,” Himchan replied.

“Thank god,” Youngjae mumbled in response, before he crawled on top of Daehyun and kissed him with a sort of excited harshness. Daehyun moaned into the kiss, pleased so long as one of them was near him. So long as they wanted him, so long as they were close, he could be content. “Fuck, do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off you?” Youngjae asked. “Look at how needy you are. Do you hear how you’re begging? How am I supposed to resist when you’re like this?”

“Y-Youngjae, please,” he moaned without a thought, “please fuck me. I need it, please. Please, I’ll be good for you. I’ll do anything just please. I want you so much.”

Youngjae nipped at his ear lightly. “He’s so desperate that he’s forgetting his place. Mm, but anything sounds good, doesn’t it? How about I sit back and let you show me how much you want it, Daehyunnie?”

Daehyun groaned. He supposed it should have been obvious what Youngjae wanted from the moment he crawled over, given how fond he was of Daehyun riding him. He sat back against the headboard, and Daehyun didn’t hesitate to climb on top of him. He stretched himself slowly, his fingers pressed up against the vibrator as Youngjae was content to waste time biting at Daehyun’s lips until they were red and swollen behind his kisses.

Youngjae didn’t help him him as he sank down on his cock, with a sort of cocky smirk and his hands behind his head as he watched Daehyun desperately bounce on top of him.  It didn’t take long for Daehyun to come again, so worked up from the teasing and the vibrator that he was near delirious. Even then, he didn’t stop bouncing until Youngjae came a couple minutes later, He slid off him with shaking legs and let Youngjae dump him back on the bed to be used by whoever was the next most impatient among them.

Daehyun watched them with interest as Jongup tried to sedate his impatience by pulling Youngjae down to make out with him, not long after Himchan had given into the temptation.

“His lips are so pretty when he’s moaning,” Himchan breathed. His fingers trailed around the edge of the vibrator, and very suddenly he pulled it out and pressed it back in. Daehyun groaned, loud and needy, as his back arched off the bed. “Look at the pretty ‘o’ they make, like they’re just asking for someone to slide their cock down his throat until he chokes to death.”

“Please,” Daehyun breathed, “please, I want to blow you. Please, Master. Please, if you want to do it then don’t just say it.”

“What a worthless, desperate slut,” Himchan replied. “I don’t want to hear your obnoxious whining anymore. We both know the only thing that mouth is good for is being another hole for us to fuck into.”

Daehyun shut his lips tightly until he could choke down any noises he might make in response. Himchan was only cruel when he was horny, but some part of Daehyun believed that he probably thought all of those things deep down and just usually hid it under his calm exterior. As soon as Himchan came to use his mouth, Daehyun opened his lips again without complaint. He was surprised to find Himchan turning to face his lower half before pressing himself down Daehyun’s throat

“Still, you’re being such a good boy for us,” Himchan near-whispered, something strangely distant about his tone, “so I’ll give you a little present while you do your job.” Warm lips wrapped around Daehyun’s length and Himchan sucked harshly on his tip, causing Daehyun to cry out around him. 

As Himchan raised and lowered his head, taking Daehyun down at a slow pace, he did the same with his hips. Daehyun was groaning and moaning around him, so desperately pleased to have Himchan fuck his mouth while sucking him off. Still, while they were usually rough and fast when he was blowing them, Himchan was rather slow and struggled to deepthroat him.

He pulled his lips off right before Daehyun came and jacked him off until he did, then quickly finished himself off by fucking down his throat as quickly as he could. 

“Thank you so much,” Daehyun said when Himchan pulled away, his voice hoarse and his throat raw from the abuse it took. It never took long for them to absolutely wreck his ability to speak, but they kept doing it so clearly they liked it.

“Jongup,” Yongguk called out, his deep voice sending shivers up Daehyun’s spine. “Go next. Youngjae, come here.” Daehyun wasn’t surprised. Youngjae tended to be a favorite among all of them while they were waiting for him. Himchan sat next to Zelo, where he could watch whatever Jongup planned to do to Daehyun while also leaning against Zelo’s broad shoulder.

Jongup chewed on his lip for a couple moments before he leaned down to kiss Daehyun. The kiss was rough, but much gentler than what as usual for Jongup. With no real warning, he pulled Daehyun’s legs by the thighs to wrap around his waist and sunk in alongside the still running vibrator. Daehyun vision was getting spotty.

“I might pass out soon, Master,” Daehyun warned.

Jongup looked to Youngjae for the proper response. “Do you want to take a break so you can stay conscious a little longer?” Youngjae asked.

“No, please don’t stop,” Daehyun begged. “You promised you’d keep going even if I did, please.”

Jongup cut him off from any other begging with a kiss and began with a quick and rough pace that shook the whole bed. He growled deep in his throat when Daehyun failed to moan loudly enough for him, and hiked one of Daehyun’s legs over his shoulder to change the angle.

Daehyun broke their kiss to cry out, needy and desperate as Jongup busied his lips with leaving hickeys over his neck, shoulders, and chest and continued thrusting into him. The vibrator pressed directly into his prostate, driving him mad with need and pleasure, even if it was getting more painful and his vision was getting spottier by the minute. He wanted it. 

Jongup was careful as he hiked Daehyun’s other leg over his other shoulder, which left Daehyun folded in half as he drove into him at an even faster speed. He busied himself with leaving more hickeys over Daehyun’s thighs as he did, and nipped at the skin whenever Daehyun gave a particular loud or desperate moan. The quick pace coupled with the teasing both had gone through beforehand led them to quick ends, with Daehyun screaming out “Jongup!” desperately and Jongup groaning something that sounded similar to Daehyun’s name as well.

Yongguk pulled Youngjae off his lap as Jongup pulled away from Daehyun. They had just been grinding while Yongguk gave him a hand job, but both had flushed red skin and swollen cocks. Yongguk took his turn to crawl on top of Daehyun, while Youngjae seemed more content to sit back and stroke his length while he watched. 

Jongup had already been pulled down to lock lips with Himchan by the time Yongguk sank into Daehyun, but Zelo was still sitting still, unmoving as he watched. 

“Zelo, join us,” Yongguk ordered. “Let’s split him in two.” Daehyun moaned loudly to accentuate the statement, and Youngjae reminded them to stretch him because actually ripping him would mean unnecessary frustration for all of them for at least a couple weeks.

For however cruel or uncaring Daehyun knew the two to be, Yongguk did take his time to make sure Daehyun was stretched well enough to accommodate both of them and the already-large vibrator inside him. When Yongguk could fit four fingers inside of him without problem, he pulled off and told Zelo to lie down. Daehyun was pulled to sit on top of him and sink down as if he were about to ride him and then was pressed down until they were chest to chest. Zelo wrapped his arms tightly around Daehyun’s middle, steadying him as Yongguk pushed into his already stretched hole.

Daehyun cried out, loud and pained, as tears flowed freely from his eyes. “P-Please,” he begged, “please, more, o-oh my god. It hurts so much. Please don’t stop.” The others laughed freely at him, and Zelo cracked a small smile before he was catching Daehyun’s lips in a harsh kiss. It was easier for Yongguk to thrust into him given the position, but Zelo rutted as much as he could at Yongguk’s quick pace. Daehyun whined, screamed, and moaned into the kiss for as long as he could keep conscious, but like his sanity it was something he could only barely grip onto for a very short amount of time before it was lost. He came to more frequently than he had in his first night, but it was never for very long, even with the vibrator gone, before he’d pass out again. 

When he woke up the next morning, alone in his bed with his whole body sore and used up, he could still feel their bodies on his like ghosts haunting him. It wasn’t enough. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is Keke?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I missed last week TT.TT I was having a really bad time with my brain being broken and all >.<
> 
> [Tumblr](http://brainboxy.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/youngjaebunny) | [AFF](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1222652/)

His masters had calmed barely a week later. They had been busy, and Zelo had been on edge more than usual as Youngjae’s work outside of the compound took longer than expected. Daehyun had gotten used to cleaning up whatever mess was left behind before he’d settle onto his spot on the floor. He was happy that he got to spend time with Jongup and Zelo as Dada and Toto more often than not, but they rarely paid mind to him as he got better at hiding how needy he was until they went home. After a week, it seemed as though the frenzied newsmen were all that was left of their dealing with Commissioner Woo.

“Daehyun, sit on the couch with me,” Jongup had said when he entered the living room where Daehyun had been sitting and waiting after Himchan left him there. Daehyun looked up in surprise from his place on the floor. “Come on, like you would with— you said— just come here.”

The moment Daehyun was in his reach, he found himself pulled down to Jongup’s lap and wrapped up in his arms. Jongup had been weird lately, still careful as if Daehyun was a scared animal, but timid in another way — as if he knew what he needed to do but did not know how to go about it. Daehyun kept his face blank as he settled back against Jongup’s chest, because any emotion but a smile might make Jongup leave him.

The TV flickered on, and Jongup changed the channel to the news before pulling Daehyun a little tighter against him. “Breaking news today as the newest police commissioner holds a press conference on her first day. We go live to our news crew in center city.”

The shot flipped to one of the same precinct Commissioner Woo had stood in front of a little less than a month beforehand, as a young woman stood in front of the crowd instead. Daehyun did not realize his hands were balled into fists, nor that he was cutting bloody lines into his palms, until Jongup physically unfurled his hands. “Just watch, pet. We know what we’re doing.”

“Will you continue Commissioner Woo’s plans to seek out and destroy the Matoki and their allies?” A reporter was asking.

The young woman dodged her eyes to the side, to the officers behind her, before speaking in a firm, almost teasing tone. There was a small, secretive smirk on her face. “The Matoki are dangerous, especially when they’re angry. Let’s not anger them.”

“Miss Commissioner, are you suggesting you will be taking no steps against the Matoki?” Another reporter called out.

“I am simply suggesting that we’re careful with our words, Mr. Lee,” she replied, “or my time as commissioner might be as short as the late Mr. Woo’s.” There was a murmur among the crowd and the amusement quickly dropped from her face. From inside their house, a door opened and closed. Daehyun assumed it was Yongguk, back from wherever he had run off to that morning. “As it stands the Masked Rabbits have been a part of our streets for over a hundred years. The organization they are believed to stem from has been around thirty odd years longer than that. Their symbol and their name sits painted, red like blood, on nearly every street corner, alley, and precinct. Recently, a couple foolish words against them by an even more foolish man caused the death of three innocent women.” She paused. 

There were two doors in the room: a large arch that connected closely to the kitchen, and another smaller one, nearly hidden, that led into the back hallway and down to the basement. Whoever had entered the house came into the living room through the door to the back, out of view of Daehyun and Jongup.

“If you are asking me to denounce them, you are asking me to commit suicide. The Masked Rabbit organization — whatever it may be, whoever they may be, and however many of them there are — is not something intelligent people would discuss. Keep the words about them confined to the whispers between their obsessive fans, unless you truly wish to die. We as a city have learned this time and time again, so when will you wisen up to the situation? The Masked Rabbit do as they please, I’ll follow in the footsteps of the commissioners before me with regards to them. My main concern is making our city safe for families, for young women, and for the most vulnerable among us.”

“So you’re saying you won’t do anything about them?” That same reporter cried.

“We have a lovely team of experts on the matter, I will be deferring all judgments and decisions to our lead advisors. Now, that is the last question I will take on the matter. Moving on,” she continued to speak and reporters continued to ask questions, but Daehyun lost interest the moment it was not related to his beloved masters.

“She really is good, isn’t she?” Jongup said to whoever was behind them.

“I’m certain that was a word-for-word rendition of the speech Youngjae wrote her,” Yongguk replied from behind the couch. Daehyun peeked behind him with the intention of only looking long enough to see his master’s face, but was stopped short by the woman by his side. She was in her mid-60s — the age wearing down on her skin — though the wrinkles could not hide it, she bore the same face as the new commissioner, almost exactly. “Yuna was the right choice.”

Daehyun continued to stare, despite knowing it not to be his place. Who was she? He had never seen anyone but his masters or the clean-up crew in the house before.

“Pet,” Jongup insisted suddenly as he pushed Daehyun’s face into his shoulder, “behave yourself. Sorry, Minhee, he’s still new.”

“Don’t worry,” the old woman replied with a kind tone, “we never had one long enough for them to learn the rules fully, what with how Taeha was.” Both Yongguk and Jongup seemed to hum in understanding. “I’ve heard Gen 5 never kept one longer than a week given their Toto.”

“Gen 5 Shishi told me they gave up after the third, and that’s how it should be if our Toto was the same. So far, I’d imagine we’re one of the more stable generations so I’m not sure we’ll have to worry about it,” Yongguk replied. “It seems as though Yuna’s finished though, shall we begin?”

“Oh, of course,” Minhee agreed. “I thought we were waiting for your candidate for Keke to arrive. Where are they?”

“It’s the pet,” Yongguk replied.

The room went silent, and Daehyun could feel the unease without lifting his head. “Are you sure that’s wise?” Minhee asked after a couple palpable moments of awkwardness. “If any of gen 6 are… well, if any of you are attached to him, that could be a problem. If he were— If your pet becomes Keke, you’re aware he cannot be your pet anymore, right? You can’t sleep with him, hold any emotional closeness to him, nor care about him in any way that may pose risk to organization. This isn’t a generational position, Shishi, Keke operates on different terms.”

“I am aware of the rules,” Yongguk responded in a gruff tone. “None of us really care about him past being a little fun for a couple months, and he has no will but to please us so he won’t object either. We’ve all been aware from the start that his position as a pet was simply an interlude, so to speak, before we got around to training him. We’re young, you know, it’s good to give them some way to blow off a little steam every once in awhile.”

Jongup did not say a word. Daehyun did not say a word. He did not understand. Perhaps it was a willful refusal of comprehension, but he did not understand.

He was taken down to the compound by Minhee, with only a strict order from Yongguk to behave and do as he was told. He found himself in the pink hoodie again, and Minhee in a black hoodie with a white mask, the pattern on her hoodie being simple, wavy lines like those scarred onto Himchan. She led him into a large room far from the den in the compound, with a shooting gallery and a large store of weapons.

“What do you know about Keke?” Minhee asked once they had settled, alone, in that room. Daehyun was not sure if he was allowed to speak with her. “I’m a Matoki,” she said eventually, “you’re allowed to speak with me, and feel free to ask me any questions you have. Don’t worry about offending your masters, either, our coms are not connected to theirs so they cannot hear us.”

“I don’t know anything about Keke. The Masters have only mentioned it a handful of times,” Daehyun replied.

“Keke is the sixth Matoki, the suit I am wearing now. Unlike the other Matoki, Keke isn’t generational, passed down within the five houses of the Matoki, but rather due to tradition, Keke is an outsider that is sought out every generation. I’m the Keke of gen 4.”

“What generation are my Masters?” Daehyun asked hesitantly.

“Six. The only reason gen 5 Keke is not here to instruct you instead is because gen 5 did not have a Keke. Gen 5 Toto was much too dangerous to allow around outsiders, to be honest I’m surprised he was even allowed to train his successor, although my generation’s Toto was no better.”

“So will I be gen 5 Keke, then?” Daehyun asked.

“No, you will be gen 6 Keke, if you make it through training. You have a great deal of time ahead of you before you can put on the suit, since I’m assuming as a pet you’ve had no experience with real weapons.” Daehyun could tell she was unhappy.

Daehyun shifted, awkward and nervous, before he spoke again. “What did you mean before, when you said I couldn’t be a pet anymore?”

“You can be a pet until you officially become Keke, but once you put on this suit, that life is over for you. The Matoki must always be prepared for Keke to die or be arrested. Keke is the most vulnerable of the group in that way, and one of the core rules we must follow is that Keke is not to be saved if in trouble. The Matoki are never to admit that Keke is a member, so that they never risk being found out. As a result, they must be ready to lose whoever plays Keke their generation. The rules to manage this declared no emotional closeness, no sexual activity, no bonding activity, and very little contact between the others and Keke outside of work. Of course, when — twenty or thirty years from now — this generation retires, those rules are no longer in effect. The first generation Keke, for instance, married the first generation Tats when their duties were done. Fourth generation Joko and I fell in love and were married after we retired as well, we even had Yuna and two other children that work on the organization’s behalf within the government,” Minhee replied.

“So I… I won’t be with them for thirty years if I become Keke?” Daehyun’s voice was a near screech, and the tears gathering in his eyes otherwise hidden by the mask were audible in his voice.

“Do you want to be with them, pet?” Minhee asked.

“I have no will but my Masters’,” Daehyun mumbled back, upset clear in his voice.

“As Keke you will have to have your own free will, pet. Do you want to remain with them as their pet? Will the sudden distance between you and them upset you?”

“I have no will but my Masters’,” Daehyun replied, even quieter.

“You have to have will other than theirs!” Minhee demanded. “If you want to be Keke, you can’t be like this! Tell me, do you want this or not? Do you want to be their toy or do you want to be a part of the Matoki? You have to have an opinion.”

“My Masters want me to be Keke.” Daehyun’s voice was raising in pitch, though cracking still under pressure. “They have said that this is what they wanted, and I will not disobey them. For as long as I am a pet, I have no will but my Masters’, and if they want me to be Keke, then I will develop opinions of my own once I am.” They could both hear the cracks in his voice, but neither acknowledged how clear it had become that he was crying.

“This is a bad idea,” Minhee insisted. “I don’t know why they would want you to be Keke in the first place, but it seems increasingly stupid the longer I’m here. People like you aren’t meant to be Keke. You don’t even have any experience in their organization, do you?”

“I don’t. I barely even know anything about it,” Daehyun answered, his breath having become loud as he fought back sobs. A small, heartbroken whimper escaped him before he could stop it, “why don’t they want me? Did I do something wrong?”

He could hear Minhee’s sigh. “Sit, I can’t teach you anything while you’re crying.” He supposed she was kind, in how she sat and held him for as long as he was crying. She rubbed his back and promised, “I’ll do what I can to convince them to leave you as a pet instead. Given the way Matoki candidates are raised, it’s hard for them to realize how much they care about something, or how attached they are to someone, until that person is gone.”

“They don’t care about me,” Daehyun replied quietly. “You heard Shishi, I’m a pretty thing to fuck until they get bored of me. I suppose after that it’s either become Keke or die.”

“Which would you rather do?” Minhee asked. “Don’t say you have no will but your Masters’ or I swear on the first Shishi’s grave I will shoot you. You wouldn’t want to inconvenience your masters by dying, would you? So, answer honestly.”

“I’d rather die than not have them,” Daehyun admitted, quiet and unsure. “I’d rather blow up the entire planet and myself than be apart from them.”

“Then why don’t you tell them that?” Minhee asked. “You might die, sure, but they might already be attached to you, so you might not.”

“I can’t.” Daehyun shook his head. “I can’t do that. Disappointing them or upsetting them is worse than any other fate in the world. I don’t care what they do to me, ever, or what they make me do, if it means making them happy, I’ll do it.”

They did not train that day, but rather Minhee sat by his side and comforted him until he was calm again. It was strange, how human she was. He told her that before they left to unmask. “It is strange being around real humans after a long time with them, isn’t it? You forget the way people act around each other.”

“Aren’t they real humans though?” Daehyun asked.

“Only biologically,” Minhee replied. “They’re humans, technically, but they grow up learning that they aren’t. They grow up being taught that they are inhuman gods, and the ones that win their masks all truly believe it.”

“Win?” Daehyun interrupted.

“Yes, as opposed to the losers. Long before they even reach the point where the winners are being considered, any humanity inside of them is stripped away. In theory, it’s your job as a pet to re-humanize them.”

“Why? If they were raised to believe they aren’t human on purpose, wouldn’t it be wrong to change that?” Daehyun asked. 

“You’d think so, but no. They’re taught to see themselves as separate from their Matoki, as if a full life of training and conditioning to play one role wouldn’t make them into a carbon copy. No matter what, you have to pretend you see it — you have to pretend you really think they are different people from their Matoki. So long as they believe that, you can bring them back to being human when they aren’t in their suits, and that greatly lowers the possibility that someone will need to kill them when they retire. As it stands, my Toto, gen 5 Toto, gen 5 Dada, and gen 2 Joko are the only Matoki that ever needed to be killed, all others are either retired or died of old age.”

“I don’t want them to be killed.” He was trembling.

“Then you, or another pet I suppose, will have to fix any instability among them. Your Shishi is right that they’re more stable than normal, but if I know anything from my Toto, it was that they only get worse as time goes on.”

It was not long before Minhee brought him back upstairs. She told Yongguk very firmly that he had worked hard and behaved perfectly, but that he was not cut out to be Keke, and that she did not support the idea. Daehyun did not hear the rest of their argument and only knew that it ended with her, in a tone that held her age, promising to return again to continue training him later on in the week.

Daehyun was left alone for the majority of the day on the couch in the living room as the others made final preparations for whatever mission they had that night. He did not know what to do, and found himself fighting back tears and screams over their choice for him. A pet’s life seemed like a dream to him — staying with his masters and pleasing them with his body as he already was doing, but slowly also helping them to survive and be happy. He could be that emotional support that stabilized them if they gave him the chance! How could he be anything else when even moment away from them was distressing and upsetting to him? It was like loneliness haunted him the moment they were out of his sight, and to be removed from them entirely would remove his will to live.

He could not object. He would not object.

He did not want to be Keke.

He was left in a state of trembling anguish, with no ability to calm nor comfort himself as his fate took a turn away from what he wanted it to be. It wasn’t until long after dark that thumping stomps and a concerned voice broke into his silent suffering. “Zelo, be reasonable.” It was Jongup’s voice, as he trailed after those pounding footsteps up from the basement. “Yeah, we won’t be close by, but Yongguk and Himchan will be. Youngjae will be alright. He’s trained for this the same as you did. You can’t keep him locked in here like he’s  _ Daehyun _ or something.”

A vase smashed into the wall. “He’s not going!” Zelo shouted.

“It’s not your choice,” Jongup reminded. “Having Joko nearby makes Tats’ job one hundred times easier, can’t you see it doesn’t make sense to leave him here?” Another vase smashed into the wall, and Jongup cursed under his breath.

“He can do what he needs to do from the compound,” Zelo insisted.

“Come on, Z, when are you going to outgrow this? When are you going to get that this isn’t how our lives work? We’re Matoki — fuck, we’re invincible! But, we’re married to our jobs, and these things that we want— that you want, you can’t have them. Work first, any of this  _ feelings _ garbage comes second.” He spat out the word ‘feelings’ like it was something disgusting and shameful. Another vase smashed into the wall. “Listen, Youngjae’s as good at his job as the rest of us are at our own, and he can take care of himself. You’ve never needed to protect him. I’ve never needed to protect him. There’s literally nothing to protect him from!”

“What if he blacks out again?” Zelo demanded. “Why do you all go around pretending like that doesn’t happen? What if he blacks out and gets hurt, huh? Are you saying it’d be better to risk him getting hurt— getting  _ killed _ — than making it a little bit inconvenient for Himchan? You want him to die, don’t you? To black out when neither of us around to help and die? Huh? Is that it?”

“He hasn’t blacked out since we won, Z.” Jongup’s voice was so calm in comparison to Zelo’s shouting. 

He could hear Zelo’s breath coming quick, the way he was panicking was clear even when he was out of sight. When he did come into view, he was exactly as Daehyun expected him to be. His eyes were wide, nostrils flaring, and his whole body trembled as he stormed over to the couch and loomed over Daehyun like a raging beast. Daehyun took a deep breath and prepared himself. Maybe if he was good enough, he would not have to be Keke. Maybe if he was broken enough, he would not be able to. Daehyun whimpered, soft and submissive, as Zelo yanked his left arm forward and gripped it so tight that his knuckles turned white.

“Z, don’t—” Jongup’s words were cut off by Daehyun’s sudden pained scream. It broke into a whimper as tears pricked at Daehyun’s eyes as he shook. His wrist was twisted an odd angle in Zelo’s grip, red and throbbing. He tried to move his fingers, but he could not. 

Zelo’s breathing didn’t calm even as Daehyun writhed and whimpered. 

“He just broke Daehyun’s wrist,” Jongup mumbled to the others through his com.

There was a moment of silence between them, and Zelo let go, allowing Daehyun to crumple in on himself and sob properly, with his offset wrist clutched to his chest and his cheeks turning a ruddy shade. “Happy?” Jongup grumbled. 

“Shut up,” Zelo snapped back.

“Just go get ready, I’ll take care of Daehyun,” Jongup shooed him off, then turned back to the small intercom on the wall by the door. They used it to page the med crew when things went wrong, and at that point Daehyun was more than used to it being used because of him. “Med crew, we have a broken wrist that needs tending. Give me five minutes, then come,” Jongup said into to device.

With a sigh, Jongup turned to Daehyun, and came to kneel in front of him. He didn’t speak as he was still filled with that hesitance that Daehyun had grown used to over the previous couple of days. For the first time, Daehyun felt as though he knew the words Jongup was trying to say, but couldn’t. “I’m okay,” he promised softly.

Jongup pressed their lips together in response, as if it was the only response he was capable of. His kisses were feverish and demanding, with nothing comfortable or gentle about them. It was as if they were kissing for the last time, and Jongup was demanding his fill before he would let Daehyun go forever. Daehyun’s lips stung when he pulled away, and he supposed they would be swollen by the time the med crew arrived. “Youngjae’s staying in the compound, so if you need anything, press your buzzer,” Jongup mumbled.

“Ok,” Daehyun murmured back. He wanted to ease the strained expression on Jongup’s face, and to offer some form of comfort or assurance that things would turn out alright for them. In a moment of boldness, he reached forward with his uninjured arm to play with Jongup’s hair. He bit into his swollen lips as he did, and tried to hide his trembling nervousness and pounding heart.

Jongup’s eyes fell closed in an instant, and he pressed their foreheads together without a word. They stayed silent and still in that way, outside of the movements of Daehyun’s hand, until Jongup reluctantly left to join the others for their job with a soft instruction for him to behave. 

The med crew came and went, quickly bandaging his arm up in a shoddily-made cast so that it would heal correctly, and then leaving Daehyun to his worries without a word. Would Zelo be killed at the end of his run as Toto? The others had implied that he was getting better, but Daehyun was not sure he could become well enough to survive outside the Matoki on his own. He wasn’t sure he could help Zelo; he wasn’t even sure where to begin.

His masters were too stubborn, that was a lesson he was beginning to learn. They each had their idea of how the world should be, and none could compromise on it no matter how much it might cause them pain. He didn’t understand why Zelo was the way he was, why he was consistently so violent, nor why he was so afraid of letting Youngjae out without one of the brutes of the group. Daehyun had felt Youngjae’s hits often enough to know that he could easily win in a fight over any normal person, so it was not as if Youngjae needed the protection.

Their stubbornness would lead him to be Keke, no matter how much Minhee argued. It stung at him, ate at his core that he was going to be cast aside by them, and likely replaced by some shiny new toy not long after he was gone. That was an idea that Daehyun truly could not stand. Perhaps he would be able to learn to share, even if he would hate that situation with every ounce of his greedy heart, but to watch them with someone else and have none of them to himself? Daehyun would sooner light himself on fire than allow that. 

He could not become Keke. Even if he could not help him, even if he was used up and thrown away like he was nothing, death was preferable to not being with them. Every moment of his life since he had first fallen down the rabbit hole had him desperate for them, and with each new thing he was allowed, he adamantly clung onto the notion that he could get more. Anything less than what he had already been given would send him into a tantrum. 

He sat meditating on his ill thoughts and his worries, with no solution in his mind, as he waited for them to return.

About two hours later, the sound of the front door opening broke through his stewing. No one used the front door besides Himchan and the med team, and neither could be entering the house at the time. Daehyun froze and went silent, listening as if he would be able to sense who the intruders were just like that.

“Boss, you sure this place is gonna be alright?” A voice asked. It was no one he knew. He slid his hand into his pocket and began pressing the button on his buzzer, in short and long bursts as he kept his eyes glued to the archway.

“I’ve been casing it for two weeks, and the only one that’s come in or out of here is some consultant for the cops, alright? It makes our job easy, you know? We know he isn’t part of the Matoki ‘cause he’s a cop. Mortal enemies, and all that. And if we spray paint the Matoki symbol up on the wall, the police won’t touch it. Not after their old Commissioner got killed for it. We got a good month or so before the police stop being terrified. We got to use it to hit as many of them as we can.” Daehyun’s buzzer beeped several time during the boss’s speech, but Daehyun kept pressing onto the button.

“There’s some beeping noise coming from that room,” a third voice noted. “We should make sure it’s not an alarm.”

Daehyun panicked. Would the shoot him? He did not want some nothings to kill him! If he were to die it had to be at the hands of his masters! A simple plan hatched in his head and he darted from the couch to his usual cushion on the ground, where he sat rigid and proper like he would if his masters were angry with him. His unbroken arm was folded in his lap and his head tilted down, eyes far off as if he was not really there. He could not stop the way his whole body trembled, how his heart pounded, nor the couple of tears still left in the corner of his eyes. He was thankful, at least, that Youngjae must have thought he needed to use the bathroom and changed the specifics on his collar, or his jump would have killed him. He found a way to keep pressing the buzzer in his pants pocket using his elbow, and hoped they would not notice.

What would happen if Youngjae did not come to help him?

“What the fuck?” He heard from the archway.

“Boss, what the fuck is going on here?” That third voice asked. “I thought you said the police guy was the only one living here.”

“He’s the only one that ever left the house, at least,” the boss replied. 

“Do we shoot him? Do we run?” The first voice asked.

“No. Don’t shoot him.” Footsteps neared and Daehyun instinctively flinched away from them. He knew he was not allowed to speak to them, and he feared how his masters might respond if they touched him. “Sh, now, I’m not going to hurt you,” the boss cooed, something strange about his tone. “Hold still.” He tugged Daehyun’s collar down slightly, and Daehyun whimpered at the contact. He did not want his masters to be upset with him for this, but he did not know what he could do as the boss’s fingers trailed over the black and blue bruises under the collar. Daehyun rarely saw them due to the fact that they were always under the ever present collar on his neck, but his masters used it to choke him often enough that he imagined they would still be there.

“Boss, what the fuck is going on here?” The first voice asked.

“Some sort of weird BDSM shit?” The third voice asked.

“Close, but no. Our cop buddy has a sex slave. He’s too well-trained to be willing. Look at him: you can see the bruises on his wrist from being tied up so often, all of the bandages all over him, the bruises from being choked so often, the poorly wrapped cast, and how afraid he is, while still being absolutely silent? No one would be into being this injured, and he probably would’ve screamed when you suggested shooting him if he hadn’t already given up on life, Kibum,” the boss said.

“So what do we do?” Kibum asked. Daehyun was shaking as they shifted around him, getting closer as their intrigue in him grew. His heart was pounding so hard that he could feel it rocking his body.

“This is illegal, you know? It would be quite a shocking, explosive scandal if it were to get out that the police were allowing this sort of thing to fester in their ranks, and no amount of denying knowledge of it would fix public image. Think of how much they’d be willing to pay to keep this situation quiet?”

“He’s pretty, too. A well-trained, pretty boy like him is probably hard to come by and costs a small fortune. So long as we don’t top the price of getting a new one, we could make a lot just on ransom,” the third voice suggested. Daehyun shook harder, and he started crying. He did not want to leave his masters. He was not sure they would save him if he did.

“What if the mark doesn’t bite?” Kibum asked.

“Then we pimp him out as long as it’s lucrative, and any of us that are interested can have their fun with him as well. When we’re done we can still make a lot selling him back to whatever market he came from. We’ll be rich no matter what.” The boss was getting to close to him, and Daehyun wanted to puke. He was sobbing, hysterical but silent. He did not want to go with them. He did not want to leave his precious masters. “Come on, pretty boy. You’re coming with us.” The boss pulled him up by his arm, and Daehyun fell into full hysterics.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Pet, it has come to my attention that you have left your designated area. This is a reminder that you are forbidden from moving while I am not at home. Proceed back to your designated area immediately and await punishment. Failure to do so will result in the activation of your collar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT WARNING: The following chapter contains instances of self harming stims. If this may be harmful or triggering for you, please message me either in the comments or on tumblr (their is an anonymous option on tumblr) for a version of the chapter where the section has been edited out and any important, non-self-harm-related points have been summarized. The general language surrounding the self harm is non-descriptive and frank. If you are unsure if the content could be harmful to you, please check the notes at the end of the chapter for which specific self harm stims are present in the chapter. I apologize for the lack of further notice as I was not aware of how this scene would go until I went about writing it. Thank you for your understanding.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!~ Please leave a comment, I really appreciate them and they help motivate me to write~
> 
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“Pet, it has come to my attention that you have left your designated area,” Youngjae’s voice came suddenly through the intercom on the wall, the same that Jongup had used earlier to call the med crew. He sounded pleasant and calm, almost like a recording. 

Daehyun whimpered, low in his throat, and prayed it meant Youngjae was coming to save him. He began struggling harder than he had been before. Tears ran down his cheeks and dripped from his chin as he writhed in the grip of the boss of the robbers. 

Youngjae continued, “this is a reminder that you are forbidden from moving while I am not at home. Proceed back to your designated area immediately and await punishment. Failure to do so will result in the activation of your collar.” 

Daehyun whimpered loudly, and in his hysterics he managed to pull out of the boss’s grip and run back to his place on the floor. 

Still, Youngjae continued, “once punishment is complete, take the nearest com and report the reason for your movement.” 

Daehyun lowered his head and took up the rigid, proper form he had been sitting in before. He was not afraid of his punishment. He was not certain he would even be punished, given the situation. What he was terrified of was the three men in front of him, two of whom had yet to give up on their quest to take him with them. He prayed Youngjae’s words would scare them enough to leave him, but only Kibum took off running.

Kibum hit the floor.

There was no immediate, apparent reason for the thudding drop, no cry of pain nor reaction from him as he slammed into the floor like slab of meat. It was silent between the other two robbers as Daehyun continued to sob and shake to himself. Even he did not understand how or why Kibum had fallen the floor so suddenly as if he had died instantaneously while running without any visible reason to it.

“Shindong, go check on him,” the boss ordered as he continued to try to pull Daehyun. He grabbed him by his broken arm and yanked, which caused Daehyun to cry out in agony, but still he would not move. His whole body strained and flushed with effort as he tried to keep still. He did not want to go with them. He did not want to leave his masters. Sure, they were the Matoki. They could easily save him within a couple minutes of him leaving the house, especially with the various GPS trackers embedded in his skin so that his location was always clear to them, but would they? Would they really think he was worth the effort of saving?

Shindong went to roll over Kibum, and returned with some thin strip of metal between his fingers. A brief, closer look told Daehyun that it was a dart, like the ones meant for the dartboard in the basement.

“A dart?” The boss asked, taking it from Shindong to observe it closer. “Go check and see if he’s alive, this might have been a trigger-based trap for if his pet tried to escape.”

“I’m starting to think we should leave, boss,” Shindong replied. “Whatever is going on here, it’s not something we’re prepared for.” The two were hesitant and nervous, and Daehyun curled down with his head on his hands like he was bowing in an attempt to calm himself down. Perhaps it would be harder to move him when he was curled up in that way. Despite their words, they did not move. They did not run as Kibum had. Instead they stood, passing the dart between them as they tried to understand the situation.

“You should leave,” Youngjae’s voice was close and threatening, and Daehyun let out a soft, pleased whimper that his master was there. It would be okay, Youngjae was there. Both men jumped, and the dart in their hands dropped to the floor in front of Daehyun. He snatched it quickly, and hid it in his hands and shirt. He could hear Youngjae walking into the room from that back door, but did not lift his head or move, “but unfortunately I can’t let you go, now, can I? You’ve broken into my home, disturbed my work, and scared my pet. That sort of thing does not go unpunished.” Youngjae did not sound like himself, and he sounded increasingly less like himself the longer he talked. He had taken on the strange robotic cadence of the Matoki as he approached them.

A gun clicked, and Daehyun looked up to find it pointed at his head. “Take another step closer and I’ll shoot him!” The boss shouted. 

Youngjae laughed, and the boss hesitated, his gun trailing toward the floor in confusion. Daehyun could hear the quick movement behind him even if he could not see it, and it was only a matter of seconds before the boss was screaming and clutching his eye. 

A dart was stuck through his pupil. 

Youngjae was still laughing.

The boss fell to the ground as he held his eye and screamed, and Daehyun quickly grabbed his gun from his loose hand and held it close to him along with the first dart.

Shindong tried to run. Tried being the key word, of course, because he did not make it very far at all, only a couple of steps before he was hitting the ground with Youngjae on top of him. He groaned as Youngjae began punching him, dark-eyed and far off like he was not conscious of the body below him. His master’s form was so unlike him, his silence and his cold laughter so chilling, and his voice so different from what Daehyun was used to that there was no doubt in his mind that something had gone wrong.

The boss, despite his screams and groans, began to try to stand to help Shindong. In a moment of thoughtless panic that Youngjae would not notice the approaching danger in his strange state, Daehyun dodged forward with the dart he had snatched and stabbed it through the boss’s arm. It did not take more than a second for the boss to collapse, motionless like Kibum, on the floor. 

Daehyun’s breath was harsh, fast, and trembling. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that he could seldom hear anything else and his whole frame shook like earthquakes as he pressed his clammy fingers into the boss’s neck to check for a pulse. He could not stop crying, and could not calm himself no matter how he tried. He wanted Youngjae to stop what he was doing, to take him up in his arms and rock him, and to promise him that he was safe there, forever by his masters’ sides; but Youngjae would be doing no such thing. Youngjae might have physically been there with him in the room —slowly tearing apart the body in front of him and letting the blood splatter carelessly over himself and the floor — but as Daehyun approached him it was clear that mentally he was somewhere else.

With a gulp, Daehyun dared to reach out and follow the instruction he thought he had been given. He trembled and sobbed, feeling fear to its fullest form — that sort of fear that lost all of its usual allure for him — as he pulled the com from Youngjae’s ear. 

Youngjae did not react, it was as if Daehyun had not even touched him.

Daehyun pressed it into his own ear, and was bombarded immediately by the shouts of his other masters who were desperate to know what was going on. “M-Masters,” he stuttered out, “M-Masters, I’m s-sorry. I— I took Youngjae’s com.”

“Is he okay?” Yongguk barked, and Daehyun whimpered and moved away from the com, though it was in his ear so it moved with him.

“I-I think so. I don’t understand, he’s— he’s not injured but he’s not responding. H-He just keeps hitting one of them, even though he’s been unconscious for a while now, he won’t stop. He didn’t even notice when I took his com,” Daehyun sobbed.

He could hear Zelo’s harsh breaths through the com system, and Jongup trying to force him to calm down. Zelo’s pants cut out very suddenly with a loud  _ beep _ . 

“He’s blacked out,” it was Himchan who provided the answer. “It runs in his family; they just lose touch with reality and do what needs to be done like a machine. He’ll be okay, but he’ll probably be non-responsive for a while. Tell us what happened, everything, right now.”

“They— They were going to t-take me and s— sell— sell me,” sobbed Daehyun, his voice cracking.

“Who?” Himchan asked.

“I-I don’t know, I— I think they were… I think they might be robbers? They— Before, they were saying they— one of them had been casing the house. H-He— They thought w-we couldn’t be Matoki because— they knew Himchan was a cop. He wanted— He said he was going to pretend like it was you— like it was the Matoki b-because the cops would be too scared to investigate. They were going to take me away from Masters.” Daehyun broke into hysterical sobs.

“How many are there? Did any get away? Are any dead?” Himchan asked.

“Three, and they’re all unconscious,” Daehyun answered. “Y-Youngjae came in and hit two of them w-with darts and— he hit— he’s still hitting the third a-and— oh my god, there’s s-so much blood. I-I took the dart w-while they weren’t looking a-and hit one with i-it because I-I thought he might hurt Youngjae and I didn’t want them too and I was so— so scared. Th-They grabbed me— they were gonna— they wanted to take me. I-If Young— J-Jae didn’t come they would have—” He was incoherent and rambling as he sobbed out the story.

“Are you injured?” Jongup interjected suddenly.

“N-No.”

“Jongup, you’re with Zelo, right?” Himchan asked softly. “You need to make sure he doesn’t go on a rampage, we can’t afford to kill anyone. Unless Yongguk is going to pull us out, we need Daehyun to take care of this and you to keep Zelo in line.”

“We’re not pulling out,” Yongguk ordered. “Get the situation with Youngjae set quickly, we have less than twenty minutes before we should be done here.”

“He’s with me. I was the one that made him cut his com off,” Jongup said. “Daehyun I need you to go to the intercom on the wall, okay? Tell them you have a nosebleed and ask them to bring three rat traps with them. Tell them you need help setting them up.”

“W-What?” Daehyun asked.

“It’s code. Go. Call the med crew— nosebleed, three rat traps, and you need help, okay?” Himchan cut in. “Once you’ve called them, I need you to pull Youngjae off the body. Tell him he needs to go back to the compound to work, and then take him there, okay? Make sure he doesn’t put his suit on, he just needs to sit in front of the computer and he’ll do what he’s supposed to automatically. I’ve turned the collar off, so just go.”

Daehyun with his trembling hands and his shaking body came to the intercom on the wall and pressed the button in. “M-Med crew. I h-have a nosebleed. A-Also, I think I s-saw some rats so bring three rat traps. I’ll need help setting them up. Please hurry.” He was shaking as he stepped away from the com, but his sobs had calmed down slightly with his masters speaking in his ear. Their discussion was focused on the task at hand, apparently five mass bank robberies were all going on at once and the Matoki were using it as a cover-up for two other raids.

“Youngjae,” Daehyun called. He carefully laid his hand on his master’s shoulder, afraid of being hit. “They need you to go back to the compound now.”

Like a robot, Youngjae stood and walked to the basement with Daehyun trailing behind him. He spared a singular glance back at the bloody mess of the room before following Youngjae down to the pods, one of which sat close to the platform with the door open, as if Youngjae had run out of it. They made it back to the compound quickly. 

“They need you to sit at your computer and finish your work,” Daehyun said softly. Youngjae followed the command without a word, and returned to his computer to conduct the screens like an orchestra. Daehyun sat down on the U-shaped couch and waited. He held his head in his hands and tried to breathe quietly— sob silently— because his masters needed to focus even if he needed them. He was not a priority, and if he had learned anything in his time upstairs, it was that he did not have any right to the emotions he was feeling.

The medical crew came through a couple minutes later, with three casket boxes like the ones they had carried Daehyun’s gang’s members in so many months ago. They set them down only long enough to take the metal bands that obscured them from the cameras, like the ones Daehyun had worn during his months spent locked down there, and then continued on without a word.

He was still shaking and sobbing, and told his masters softly that he was turning off his mic so he wouldn’t disturb them any longer, but that he’d leave the com itself on in case they needed him. He sat there with his knees pulled to his chest and sobbed hysterically into them as he waited for their work to be done, still trembling with the leftover fear that he would be taken away from his masters. The wait only lasted about twenty minutes, and Daehyun would never be sure if the time flew by in his panic or dragged out for centuries in his need to be close to someone. Even at the time, it felt like both at once.

“Daehyun,” Himchan called out to him, “it’s time to take Youngjae back upstairs. Take him to his room, and, I guess, stay there with him. I don’t know, none of us have ever stayed with him when he was coming down before. He might be violent.”

“You say that like he’s not used to violence,” Yongguk replied. “Turn your mic back on, and if he tries to murder you, shout for us to come help. Violence is fine, if he wants sex that’s fine, but just don’t let him kill you. Jongup, make sure Zelo keeps his com off until you get home. We’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”

“About fifteen on our side,” Jongup replied, “and Zelo’s calmed down. He’s just plotting what to do with the fuckers that broke in now.”

Daehyun turned the mic back on before he approached Youngjae who was sitting as if he was comatose in his chair. “Master, it’s time to go back to the house. They say we should go wait in your room.” He reached over, nervously, to take Youngjae’s hand in his, and pulled him up with all the strength he had when Youngjae did not follow his directions.

It took time to drag Youngjae back into the house as he became less and less responsive and willing, but eventually Daehyun made it into Youngjae’s room with his master supported on his shoulder.

Like a rubber band, Youngjae snapped back into the robot he had been before, closing his door behind them, setting a couple things straight in the room, and then calmly walking over to his bed where he laid down on his back. His actions carried no sense of purpose nor understanding, like someone was still pulling Youngjae the way Daehyun had been before. He laid still on his back for minutes without a word, a movement, nor a sound.

“P-Pet,” his voice came suddenly with a stutter. Every word out of his mouth from then on was stammered and stuttered to a point that Daehyun struggled to understand him, despite the simple command, “come cuddle with me.”

Daehyun tried to appear submissive, non-threatening, and as calm as he could as he approached him, unsure of the situation at hand. It was unfamiliar and new to, of all things, be asked for affection. He crawled onto the bed and hovered over Youngjae nervously. The two spent an awkward half a minute or so locked in a staring contest, with Youngjae on his back and Daehyun an arms-length above him, until Daehyun broke in his need for affection and his desire to please his master, and leaned down to press a soft, sweet kiss on Youngjae’s lips.

Youngjae stared at him with something that was almost surprise, and with trembling hands he unlocked and removed the collar from Daehyun’s neck.

Daehyun understood.

He understood, and so he took the collar and put it on the nightstand. He understood, and so he leaned in to smother Youngjae’s face in gentle, caring kisses as the roboticism and distance drained from his expression in favor of wells of tears that stained at red cheeks and shaking breaths like his lungs had given out on him. Daehyun followed him into the same blubbering state, but still took the time to press at least one kiss to every inch of Youngjae’s face, to wipe away his tears with coos and soft promises that it was all okay, and to take Youngjae up in his arms on his lap and rock him side to side.

“We’re okay, Youngjae,” he promised, his voice a trembling whisper as he tried to keep calm. “It’s over now, and we’re okay. We both made it out just fine, and I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere. Everyone is okay.” 

Youngjae sobbed, suddenly, interrupting Daehyun’s comforting words, and that too, Daehyun understood. He had turned off his feelings for as long as there were things left to do, but to take on all of what he had felt, all at once like a dam had broken, was overwhelming beyond what Daehyun had felt. Youngjae was stronger than him, that’s what Daehyun thought. To be able to remove himself for so long and bear all of it at once without openly wailing as Daehyun had been, that was a strength. Youngjae was trying to speak, but every sound was a stammer or a stutter with no finished idea, thought, nor word to escape him. He still couldn’t speak, it seemed, and that was okay.

The others had grown silent over the com system, and Daehyun worried that they were listening in and judging Youngjae. “I’m turning the com off,” he murmured, and did so before they could object. It was dangerous to disobey them so openly by doing something they had told him not to, but it was more important that Youngjae felt comfortable than anything else.

“You did so well, Jae,” Daehyun breathed. “I was so scared, but the moment I heard your voice I knew I would be safe— I knew you would save me. It was so scary, Jae, and I thought they were going to take me or that I was going to die, but you were so strong and brave even when it was scary, and you— you’re so amazing. You’re so completely, mind blowingly amazing— I don’t think there could ever be another person like you. You did so well, and I’m so proud of you— and— and I don’t know how I could ever thank you enough for saving me.” He was rambling, but with each word Youngjae was more solid in his arms, until he was able to pull away of his own volition and pull Daehyun down to lay by his side, their faces hidden in each other’s shoulders as they held each other close.

Thundering footsteps came pounding up the stairs and Jongup called after them with worry. Moments later, the door had slammed open hard enough to knock it off it’s hinges as Zelo stood in the doorway with an expression that hid nothing. His eyes were wide and glossy; his nostrils flared as snot gathered underneath; his lips alternated between a harsh, thin line and open as he panted; and his breath came so quick it made Daehyun dizzy. He was hunched over in the door with hands that curled into fists and uncurled seconds later, with his mouth gaping open and closed like a fish, and with a form shaking so hard that the room around him seemed to shake along with him. His breath was fast and uneven, hitching at random, and Jongup sprinted between him and the bed, with his arms out, ready to stop if Zelo went to kill either of them.

“Youngjae blacked out,” Zelo shouted. It was bordering on angry, but mostly the only thing in his voice was a certain tangible quality of loud. “He blacked out and now he’s crying!” He stated, as if Jongup could not understand the basic facts of the situation. “He hasn’t blacked out since we won but he blacked out! Daehyun could have left! He could have told them to cut off the collar and run! Daehyun could have left us! We could have lost him and Youngjae blacked out and now they’re both crying!” He sounded incredulous, almost as if he expected Jongup to rewind time and fix the situation by making it never happen.

Suddenly, explosively, Zelo screamed, “why did you do this?” It wasn’t clear who he was asking. It was clear, however, from the loud thud and the wordless scream, that Zelo had punched through the wall in his rage. “This isn’t fair!” He screamed, “why did this happen? Youngjae isn’t okay. Why isn’t Youngjae okay? Daehyun, fix him! Fix him right now!” When Youngjae was not immediately calm, Zelo screamed again.

“Z, I think you should leave. There are plenty of people in the compound for you to take this out on,” Jongup said softly.

“No! No, what if I go and Daehyun leaves? He could have left! What if I go and someone takes him from us? Someone almost took him away from us, Jongup! What if I go and Youngjae blacks out again? He blacked out! What if I go and he gets hurt?” Zelo’s voice broke as his mouth returned to gaping open and closed over and over like a fish with snot dipping down over his upper lip as he turned into a snotty, tear-covered mess with blood running down his fist that still curled and uncurled and his whole body still trembling so hard that it seemed to shake the room around them. “They could have gotten hurt! I could have lost them! I wasn’t here with them and something bad happened and they could have gotten hurt or died or left me forever!” He shouted.

Zelo slammed his hands into his face, hard against his cheeks a couple times until they were red, before he pulled on his hair. Strands fell from his fingers as he went back to pounding on his head and screamed again, only for it to break in a loud, pathetic whimper. Zelo curled over himself, scratching up his arms as he whimpered and sobbed. “Make it stop,” he begged. “Daehyun, fix it!” He shouted, sudden and scared, and lunged toward the bed.

Jongup stepped between the two of them, and threw Zelo back into the wall. “Don’t hurt him!” His voice raised. “It’s not his fault; don’t hurt him! He’s been through enough today!”

Pounding footsteps came up the stairs again, and Yongguk and Himchan ran in on the mess of a scene they had become: with Daehyun and Youngjae pulled partly away from their embrace, both shaking and sobbing as they stared with confusion and shock at the other two — Jongup pressing on Zelo’s chest as Zelo wailed and trembled with that snotty, tear-stained, red face. His bloody knuckles had smeared red over his face and into his messy hair.

Yongguk put himself between Zelo and the bed as well, a sort of concerned discomfort written across his face. Himchan stood in the doorway, unsure.

The room was silent and still beyond Zelo’s yanks at his hair, hits at his face, and terrified whimpers. Daehyun was the one to break through it. “Himchan, come here please. I need you to take care of Youngjae for me.” It was daring. To call them by their names was disrespectful. To request they do things for him was unheard of.

“Why me?” Himchan asked.

“Because Yongguk and Jongup are trying to keep Zelo from murdering someone,” Daehyun replied, hoping to placate Himchan’s fear of affection. “All you have to do is hold him, maybe rub his back a little, and make sure he knows everything is going to be okay.”

“I’m not—” Himchan took a step back.

“Himchan, go,” Yongguk ordered. “Youngjae needs someone with him and Daehyun’s in no state to take care of him.” Like always, Yongguk’s word seemed to be law, and Himchan nervously came forward to take Youngjae in his arms and hold him close. He adjusted quickly, naturally, to what he was being asked to do, and it was only a tense minute later that he was rocking the two of them and playing with Youngjae’s hair.

Daehyun stood on shaky legs, and walked toward Zelo. “Daehyun—” Jongup cut himself off, his face twisted with worry. “He already broke your arm tonight.” Again, it seemed like Jongup could not say what he wanted to.

“I have another one,” Daehyun replied.

“You know what I mean,” Jongup asserted. Daehyun let out a long, somewhat frustrated sigh, and stared him down. “He kills people when he’s upset like this,” Jongup settled on. 

Daehyun thinned his lips and continued toward them anyway. “Zelo told me to fix it,” Daehyun said, “so let me fix it.” Yongguk and Jongup both stared at him in confusion, unsure of what he could possibly do, while trembling and crying, to fix the mess of a situation they had fallen into. He pushed past the both of them to stand in front of Zelo.

“Go away, I don’t want to hurt you,” Zelo mumbled.

“Then, don’t hurt me,” Daehyun suggested. 

“It’s not that easy!” Zelo was loud suddenly. “What am I supposed to do? What else is there? I said to go away! If you come any closer, I’ll hit you! I don’t want to hit you!”

“Just stand still,” Daehyun requested. He was hesitant and slow, giving Zelo all the time in the world to understand, as he forced Zelo’s arms to wrap around him, and then hugged him back. Much like Himchan was doing to Youngjae, Daehyun rocked them side to side and rubbed gently at Zelo’s back. “We’re okay, Jelly,” he whispered, stealing the nickname he heard Youngjae use a couple of times before. “Something bad happened, and it was scary. It could have turned out badly, but it didn’t, and now we’re okay. Youngjae is going to be okay. He’s going to be just fine. He’s not hurt, and even if he blacked out he was very strong and brave. He saved the both of us.”

“Are you going to leave?” Zelo asked, quiet as his arms tightened around Daehyun.

“No, I’m not going to leave you ever, Jelly. I’m right here, and that’s where I’m always going to be. Even if they took me, I would have come back. Anywhere I go, you can find me, right? So, I can’t leave, and I’m not going to.”

Zelo’s nails dug into Daehyun’s sides, and he said with venom, “you can’t leave us. You can’t leave us ever.”

“I’m never going to leave,” Daehyun promised. “Lay down with us. It’ll probably make you feel better if you’re close to Youngjae and I, right? So that you’re sure that we’re here, that we’re just fine, and that we’re not going to go anywhere.” He could feel the way Zelo stiffened against him. “I know you’re all uncomfortable or afraid or something when it comes to this sort of thing, but let me help. Trust me with this, please. Come lay down with us, Jelly. I’ll show you how to calm down without hurting anyone or breaking anything.”

Maybe if he was good enough, they would not make him be Keke. Maybe if he fixed Zelo, they’d let him stay as a pet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Specific self harm stims present in this chapter: hitting oneself (repeatedly), pulling at/out one's own hair, breaking the skin on one's knuckles via punching a wall


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were still shaken from the night before, and Daehyun was too foolish to fear his masters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I missed last week!!! As always, it was because my brain is broken so sometimes the only thing I'm capable of is laying on the floor and staring at the wall for eight hours straight TT I'll try to update again on time next week, promise~~ 
> 
> Also thank you for all of the comments last chapter TT There were so many and I really really appreciated it. If a lot of people commented again, that would make me really happy. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you like this chapter~
> 
> [Tumblr](http://brainboxy.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/youngjaebunny) | [AFF](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1222652/)

It was comfortable to the point that Daehyun believed it must be a dream as he curled up against the warm body that was holding onto him. A soft kiss pressed to the top of his head and gentle fingers continued to run up and down his back, careful of the mass injuries hidden under his shirt, as they had been since he woke up. He could hear Youngjae humming and feel the vibrations of his vocal chords as they carried into his chest, but that too remained gentle and soft.

He wasn’t used to gentleness anymore.

The world came flooding toward him in such a dizzying instant that Daehyun all at once shook and sobbed at the weight of it. He curled further into Youngjae’s chest, afraid that he may have just disrupted whatever wonderful world he had woken to with his whimper. It was not something he wanted to fade away, but he dared to believe that it would be gone as soon as Youngjae knew he was awake.

Or, perhaps it wouldn’t be. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe,” Youngjae whispered.

Daehyun relaxed when he could hear the normal Youngjae had returned, no longer blacked out and no longer crying. He peeked up at him with sleepy eyes before nuzzling back into Youngjae’s chest. “How are you feeling?” Daehyun whispered back.

“Better,” he promised. The hand that had been trailing up and down Daehyun’s back came to rub at the bare back of his neck instead. It felt strange to have his collar off, the only other time that had happened was when he had went to see Inguk. Youngjae was hesitant for a couple moments before he spoke again, “I hope you’re feeling okay too. You must have been really scared last night, and I’m sure my— the— how I was didn’t help any — Zelo too. I— We’re a mess. The five of us— at any rate, I hope you’re feeling alright.”

“I’ll be okay,” Daehyun promised. He was not sure when he would be, only that so long as he was with them, he would be. “So long as I get to stay with you guys, I’ll be okay,” he admitted, and in hopes of avoiding any more questions about his mental state, lest he start crying again, he slid up to balance on his one unbroken forearm and pressed warm kisses along Youngjae’s jaw and neck.

Youngjae’s hand guided him up to press their lips together in a kiss so gentle that Daehyun’s whole body shook and shuddered against his. When the kiss broke, he did not move far away, but rather nuzzled his nose against Youngjae’s while Youngjae laughed at him. “You’re not going anywhere,” he promised with a smug, happy grin, “you’ll be our Daehyunnie forever. No matter who tries to take you from us, no matter if you try to escape, no matter what, you’re ours and we’ll come bring you back.”

Daehyun bit his lip, his voice coming out soft and broken as he mumbled, “what about if I become Keke?” 

Youngjae’s face fell in an instant. “Now’s not the time for that,” he mumbled, and quickly pressed their lips together before Daehyun could respond. Daehyun let himself get lost in the flurry of warm, gentle kisses, and it was not long until Youngjae rolled them over and pressed Daehyun into the bed. “You took good care of Junnie, too,” Youngjae mumbled, and Daehyun cut him off before he could say more.

“Junnie?” He asked.

“Jelly— I said Jelly,” Youngjae insisted. “If you heard something else, you heard wrong— I said Jelly. You took good care of Jelly, too. It’s the first time I’ve seen him get that upset without a body count— or at least without destroying half of the house. It’d— It would be— I think that what you did was— good. Terrifying, but good. Sort of suicidal, but good. If you don’t mind maybe dying, I think you should keep doing stuff like that. It’d be good if he could— if he stopped— I have a job to do and it’s hard to do it when he freaks out the way he does. And if at the end of all of this, if we have to— if he’s still— it doesn’t matter. You don’t need to worry about that kind of stuff. I’m just trying to say that I’m glad you did what you did.”

Daehyun understood what Youngjae was trying to say, as much as he didn’t want to. “I’ll help him with it,” he promised, and Youngjae wrapped him up in warm kisses again. He reached up to play with Youngjae’s hair while they kissed. It didn’t feel as though it had any aim, nothing harsh nor lustful hidden behind it like the kisses he was used to. His whole body relaxed under Youngjae’s, and as the kisses went on he found himself pleased and flushed a soft pink at the affection. 

In an instant, after several minutes of those sweet kisses, Youngjae broke it in favor of going rigid with his face pressed into the pillow next to Daehyun’s head and his hands curled into fists. He was shaking a little. “Youngjae?” Daehyun asked. There wasn’t a response. “Jae? Is something wrong?” Daehyun asked again. He tried to tug at Youngjae, to bring him to look at him, but found instead that Youngjae planned to smother himself with Daehyun’s shoulder. Daehyun held him tightly and promised, “if there’s something wrong you can talk with me about it. I won’t tell anyone else and it might make you feel better.”

Still, it was silent for a long time, until Daehyun had settled and relaxed again. He had begun running his fingers up and down Youngjae’s back not long before Youngjae finally spoke. His voice was barely a whisper, and he sounded broken to some degree. “They all think I’m weak again, don’t they? I— it took so long— just getting here— when I won, they were pissed. Joko put me at F because of the blackouts— Toto kept saying Junnie would break me and— fuck. Fuck. ‘Broken by an F brat with no shot’ that’s what they thought— fuck. Shishi’s gonna— Yongguk’s gonna— I don’t want them to think— I don’t want to be the weak one,” he rambled.

“You’re not weak,” replied Daehyun.

“I blacked out,” Youngjae pointed out. “What the fuck kind of god am I if I blackout? What kind of human-like bullshit is that? These— _ fuck _ — I shouldn’t have emotions. I shouldn’t feel anything. But I’m weak, aren’t I? I guess it’s not really news to anyone though, they’ve always known I’m like this. What’s that bullshit again?  _ Sensitive _ . Fucking bullshit. A fucking bullshit line to help them accept that they got stuck with the fucking bullshit F candidate.”

Daehyun rolled them over. He was nervous, unsure of what he could do to help, but he pressed warm kisses under Youngjae’s jaw while he spoke and pressed their foreheads together when it was his own turn to reply. “I don’t think they think you’re weak. It’s not… wrong to feel things, Jae, and— and I think they feel things too. You saw how Zelo was—”

“Zelo doesn’t count!” Youngjae interjected. 

Daehyun shushed him, “all of you count the same in this. Zelo clearly was feeling a lot last night, wasn’t he? It took a little digging, but clearly it was something. A-And— I think Himchan feels things too. I can’t tell you why, but I have a good reason. Jongup too. Probably Yongguk. I think probably all of you have emotions, Jae, and it doesn’t make you weak. It’s not wrong to feel things, or to respond to the way you’re feeling.”

Youngjae stared him down for a long time, a harsh edge to his expression that would likely make a normal person fear for their life. Daehyun stared back with sympathy and affection, waiting until the little cracks in Youngjae’s resolve made him speak again. He stuttered and stammered as he tried, and looked off to the side rather than meeting Daehyun’s eyes. “What if they think I’m not good enough to be a Matoki because I’m weak? I black out, Dae, that’s got to be some sort of liability in their minds. They thought they had bred it out like they did with asthma in the Dada blood line but here I am, still fucking unable to control myself.”

“Jae when you were blacked out you turned into, like, an incredibly skilled robot or something. So long as there was someone to tell you what to do, you did your job perfectly. Besides, I think, from what they said when they told me what was going on, it seems like they think you just drew an unlucky straw in a genetic pool, not like it’s something to actually worry about. Everyone here knows you’re good enough to be Joko,  _ no one _ would say otherwise,” Daehyun promised.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Youngjae said suddenly.

“Jae—” 

“Shut up! I said I’m done talking about it,” Youngjae demanded. He reached out for Daehyun’s collar, thumbing over its edges as he debated forcing his power over Daehyun. The two were quiet for a minute or so with something awkward and tense hidden in the air between them. “I don’t want to do that either. It’s not fair to— We shouldn’t just stop you from being a person when it’s inconvenient. We should probably even take the collar off you more often, shouldn’t we?” Youngjae murmured. “It’s good for you to come down sometimes. It’s probably good for us too.”

“I don’t really mind either way,” Daehyun promised. “Whatever is best for you all— whatever is going to make you happy is what I want to do.”

Youngjae’s hand dropped from the collar, instead threading into the back of Daehyun hair and pulling him closer. “Let’s just make out, I don’t want to talk anymore.”

Even without his collar, Daehyun was quick and compliant when it came to a command. He pressed his lips to Youngjae’s followed his lead as some of the gentleness he had received before was lost for a more intense kiss. He was being maneuvered, pushed and pulled, by Youngjae as the latter tried to regain some small amount of control over the world through him, and Daehyun, ever-obedient, agreed with spineless compliance to each and every silent command.

He was picked up and thrown to the side suddenly, a small gasp escaping him as he hit the bed. He whimpered slightly and curled his broken arm in toward his chest to nurse the sting from knocking it on the mattress. Youngjae pinned him down to the mattress, careful with his injured arm, and caught his lips in a flurry of demanding kisses that he was more than will willing to submit to. His body flushed and heated and his lips swelled by the time Youngjae pulled away to bite and suck at his neck. Daehyun lifted his chin up, inviting and submissive, only to find Youngjae switched to pinning him down with one hand, letting Daehyun’s broken arm go free, while the other pushed on his jaw to a near painful angle so that he’d have more room to leave hickeys.

The back of his neck was sore from the bend by the time Youngjae let him go, but Daehyun did not complain beyond a soft whine over the strain growing in his pants. “You didn’t get needy that fast, did you?” Youngjae teased, “always so eager. It’s like you wouldn’t be satisfied unless you were being fucked 24/7.”

“P-Please, Jae,” Daehyun mumbled. “ _ Fuck me _ , please.”

“You sure?” Youngjae asked, still nipping at his neck. “I won’t be gentle even if your collar is off. Are you really sure you want to be used and abused like that right now? I’d think, after last night, you’d want something sweet instead.”

He could tell Youngjae needed to feel control over something, and Daehyun was more than willing to submit and offer his body to be controlled if it would be easier on him. “I want to feel you and know that you’re here with me. I-I want you to hold me down and hurt me so that even when you’re gone later I’ll still be able to feel you, as if you were still there with me.” Youngjae urged him to go on, to spill all his dirty wishes while Youngjae grinded down on him. “J-Just pin me down and give it to me rough, please, y-you know— you know I like it. You know how I like it. Mark me, bruise me, hurt me so I know I’m still here with you and that you all still want me. Do anything you want to me because I’m yours, so you can. Own me, Jae, please.” He wanted to help Youngjae. He wanted to give him control.

Youngjae bit into his shoulder and drew blood before he pulled away to stare Daehyun down. “You’re ours forever, Daehyun. Don’t forget that. No one is going to take you from us, no matter who tries, so you’ll be here with us forever. And trust me, we’ll never get tired of you. I promise that.” 

Youngjae was quick about stripping them, and had two lubed up fingers pressed into him before Daehyun really had time to think, though even then, his only thought was that he wanted more, and he certainly begged for it with every second that Youngjae wasted worrying about such trivial and unimportant things as his comfort or avoiding bodily harm. When a third finger pressed inside him instead of Youngjae, Daehyun near choked on a sob and whined that it was taking forever, that he wanted it rough and fast while Youngjae was being so slow and gentle.

Youngjae did not actually spend very long stretching him at all, nor was he particularly gentle as he pushed in, and Daehyun, below him groaned in pained pleasure to be getting what he wanted. He had almost forgotten that when it came to Youngjae, the more prep he was given the better.

“Jae, please, m-move,” he begged the moment Youngjae settled. “P-Please, don’t wait, j-just fuck me please. I need you so badly— need to feel all of you so badly.”

Youngjae shushed him, then quickly gave him what he wanted, pulling out and snapping his hips forward to fill him again. Their pace was rough and fast, with Youngjae still aiming to use Daehyun as some sort of outlet for the lack of control he was feeling over the world as he held him down and pounded into him with quick, rough snaps of his hips that pushed Daehyun up the bed.

He pulled out in an instant, and gave a firm order of, “on your stomach,” which Daehyun was much too eager to follow. Youngjae pulled his hips up and bent over Daehyun’s body to hold his arms down again, then went back to pounding into him hard enough to bruise the back of his thighs. Youngjae’s chest against his back stung at the wounds there in the best possible way.

Daehyun groaned deep in his throat, his face smothered in his elbow to help hide the sound, and gripped onto the sheets as much as he could with Youngjae holding onto his wrists as he pounded into him. His whole wounded, broken body stung from old, healing injuries, and Daehyun wondered if the mass scarring on his back was any comfort to Youngjae in its design. It was a clear mark of ownership over him, and he wondered if that, too, helped him feel more in control.

The quick pace led to quick ends, with groans of each other’s names caught between their lips as the smell of food started to waft through the house. Youngjae pulled back and flopped onto his back, pulling Daehyun to lie with his head on his chest. They were silent for a long time, even as Himchan called them to hurry up and come down for breakfast. “It’s not easy for us,” Youngjae said after a long time, his voice barely there, “even for me. We don’t talk about these things. We try not to even think about them, and— so, just— I don’t know. It’s not easy for us, that’s all there really is to say.” 

They went quiet again, and Daehyun found himself nuzzling into Youngjae’s shoulder and wishing for his collar back.

“We should go to breakfast,” Youngjae said. “Go upstairs and get ready for the day. Go straight to your room and straight downstairs to the kitchen after. I’ll meet you there and put your collar back on.”

“Yes, M—” Daehyun cut himself off, “okay. See you in a couple minutes.” He leaned in to press a sweet kiss to Youngjae’s cheek, then pulled away and went off to his room. His legs ached below him as he went up the stairs to the attic and he tried not to squirm at the feeling of cum drying between his thighs and sticking to his boxers. He held some sort of anxiety caught up in the back of his throat that he was doing something wrong by walking through the house freely without his collar despite the fact that he was simply doing as he was told.

As he changed he noticed something in his pocket he hadn’t felt before, and pulled it out with curiousity of what it could be — Youngjae’s com.

The tiny device rolled between his fingers as he realized he must have forgotten to give it back the night before, when everyone’s emotions were so high that it was difficult to remember little things like that. They had all probably forgotten Daehyun had it, even. It was off, just a small skin colored tube that could fit into one’s ear canal, with two buttons, one to power the receiver and the other, the microphone. There was no possible way he would be punished for bringing it back late, his masters even often forgot their own coms, with Youngjae being the most likely. He came downstairs every once in awhile to complain that he had slept with it in his ear without realizing and it had made his ear swell. It would barely take a moment to give it back, one of those small insignificant things that would be forgotten by nighttime.

Daehyun quickly put it into the drawer in his nightstand, hidden in one of the small boxes of games he had there.

He would not give it back, no.

What if something bad were to happen? What if again someone tried to take Daehyun away from his beloved masters and he had no way to call for help? He tried to delude himself into thinking it was logical, not wrong, to take the com. He tried to delude himself into thinking his masters would praise him for thinking ahead rather than punish him for stealing and lying. 

It was just a little thing, wasn’t it? How much trouble could it really be?

He was quick to get ready for the day and rushed downstairs to the kitchen, determined not to give them any reason to be suspicious of him. His entrance was barely noted as Jongup and Youngjae engaged the others in a heated whispered discussion. He stood by the doorway next to his usual tape-squared spot and waited for them to tell him it was alright to approach.

A minute later or so, Youngjae pulled away with a hiss of, “here, I’ll show you.” Youngjae stood from the table and took Daehyun’s collar with him as he came over. His entire manner had changed entirely in the couple minutes they had been apart, and there was no doubt that it was because of the others in the room. “Ready?” He asked Daehyun, who confirmed that he was. The collar clicked in place around his neck, and Daehyun let out a pleased sigh at the familiar, comfortable pressure of being owned. Youngjae pressed his hand into Daehyun’s cheek and rubbed crescents with his thumb as he spoke, “was Daehyunnie good just now?”

“Yes, Master. I went straight to my room and then straight down here,” Daehyun promised.

“And how is our Daehyunnie feeling? He was so brave last night, even though it must have been so scary for him, right everyone? Our Daehyunnie knows he can come to us if he’s ever scared or if there’s a problem, doesn’t he?” Youngjae cooed — almost pointedly — almost as if for someone else’s sake besides Daehyun’s. “I’m still a little scared, Master,” Daehyun admitted, “I know that no one could take me away from Masters, but the idea that someone was going to try to — a-and that they were g-going to sell me — it was really scary.”

“Our pet’s scared of the idea of being sold to someone else then? You only want to belong to us, don’t you?” Youngjae lilted, and Daehyun confirmed with a nod. “Don’t worry, pet, you’re all ours. No one else can have you. How about you help Jonguppie and Jelly punish them today, hm?” Youngjae asked.

“You don’t have to hurt them if you don’t want to, but we want to use your acting abilities,” Jongup quickly clarified.

“If Master wants me to help then I will,” Daehyun promised, “anything you need from me— anything you want from me, I promise.” 

Youngjae leaned in to kiss his forehead and Daehyun whimpered slightly, low in his throat, just a bit lower in pitch than how he would when he was needy. “Our Daehyunnie is such a good boy,” Youngjae whispered, and Daehyun whined again.

He left to sit at the table, and Daehyun was motioned over to take his spot as well, however before he could sit, Yongguk pulled him by the waist to sit on his lap instead of the floor. He barely took notice, too busy in listening in on the whispered conversation between the others while pretending not to be. “But why did he whimper like he was in pain?” Jongup was asking.

“I think it’s like when he does it during sex,” Youngjae answered in a whisper, “I think it probably means he likes it more than he can deal with, and he probably wants more. What Yongguk is doing now is probably good too.”

“I still don’t know exactly what to do, but we used to do some stuff like this while we were still masked to deal with the neediness, right? So are we just doing stuff like that again? Or is there more to it? Do you think there are, like, videos on the internet or something to explain how to do it right?” Jongup asked quietly. Zelo was nodding along next to him.

“I’ll see what I can find during work today. I suppose, worse comes to worse, we ask Minhee?” Youngjae proposed. “I suppose he probably knows too. If we come up clueless, we can ask him what’s going to help, right? We could also watch the old videos to see what he was doing with In— that other guy and all of them, you know? I don’t know, we’ll figure it out.”

“Do we have to do this?” Himchan hissed.

“Yes,” Yongguk answered, with no edge of whispering to his tone as Daehyun would be able to hear him regardless. “You have to. At least for the next couple of days, this is how things are going to be.” They went silent, all quiet and in agreement, and started on their meal with an awkward atmosphere between them.

Daehyun felt awkward as well, unable to relax into Yongguk when he was not holding onto him at all. Once Daehyun was properly seated on his lap he had let go, and even as he fed Daehyun it felt impersonal and distant. Daehyun would almost argue he’d rather be on the floor, where he could hide the redness of his face and the awkwardness he felt about the situation. It would also make it easier for him to puzzle out their conversation. Had they been talking about him? What were they trying to do and why were they so confused about how to do it? Most of all, if he knew, why wouldn’t they just ask him directly?

Breakfast went by awkwardly and silently, and Daehyun kept rigid on Yongguk’s lap with a large amount of discomfort in the change in their usual routine. The only real advantage was being able to see how his masters were behaving: Yongguk and Himchan who were stiff, proper, and awkward as they tried to avoid the attention of the others; Youngjae who had withdrawn into himself with small quakes to his hands and watery eyes as if he was stiff recovering from the black out, or perhaps as if he was still afraid the others would think he was weak; Jongup whose face remained as neutral as ever as he repeatedly looked over to where Daehyun was sitting, only to look away if Daehyun matched his gaze; and finally Zelo who was hunched over, red-eyed, silent, and still shaking from the night before as he pushed the food around on his plate rather than eating. Daehyun was relieved when it was finished and he was permitted to stand.

“Daehy— pet,” Zelo called suddenly, “come here and do the thing again.” His voice was quiet but demanding, and held some sort of nervous confusion as if he wasn’t sure what he was asking for.

“The thing?” Daehyun asked, unsure.

“Yeah, the thing,” Zelo supplied unhelpfully.

With a small amount of hesitation, Daehyun assumed Zelo was talking about how they had hugged the night before, and so he came to hug Zelo again and rock them slightly. Zelo hugged back, awkward but tight. His whole body relaxed against Daehyun’s until Daehyun was supporting a lot of his weight, and the others moved around them as if they weren’t there.

“You can’t leave us ever,” Zelo threatened in a desperate whisper.

“I won’t, Master, I promise I won’t,” Daehyun breathed. When Zelo’s arms tightened around him, making him wince from the wounds on his back, Daehyun spoke again. “I’ll never leave you, Master. I never want to leave my precious Masters. Masters are everything to me. I’ll always be here with you, in whatever way Masters want me to be. I’m not going anywhere.”

Zelo relaxed into him a bit more. “Why does this make me feel better?” He asked in a small, confused mumble.

“Because when you’re scared, physical comfort and reassurance are helpful,” Daehyun replied quietly. “I know you’re not used to it, but this is how humans deal with emotions, Jelly. We don’t destroy things, we just find someone we— we care about— we trust— um, a-and talk and hug like this, you know? It’s good.”

“I don’t want to have emotions,” Zelo grumbled, “we’re not supposed to have those.”

“Well, you can’t really get rid of them,” Daehyun replied softly.

“Yes, I can. You’re coming to watch us today, aren’t you, pet? I’ll show you then, how to get rid of them. And, I want to make this clear to you, if you ever do try to leave us— try to escape— I’ll punish you exactly the same as I’m about to punish them, but one hundred times worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief note: "what happened to Daehyun's back???" you ask. You will find out the specifics next chapter~~^^


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were doing their best to make him happy, all the while doing the opposite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TT There isn't much longer left in this story, my goal is to finish by the end of July. Please wish me luck! And comment lots on this chapter too~~ It's a bit long but I worked really hard on it.
> 
> [Tumblr](http://brainboxy.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/youngjaebunny) | [AFF](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1222652/)

Daehyun stood in the locker room of the compound, nervous and unsure as Jongup gave him instructions for the day. Zelo, who was changing a couple feet away from them, was still red eyed, silent, and shaking. Daehyun was told to wear his hoodie with the hood down so that his face could be seen, and a metal band was fastened below the collar to keep his face obscured from the cameras. “We want you to scare them for us, pet,” Jongup explained. “Take a com with you, and we’ll give you instructions through it. If you need to leave for any reason, come knock on the door twice and we’ll let you out.”

“Yes, Master,” Daehyun easily agreed.

Their room was deep within the labyrinth that was the compound, impossible to find by those that did not know the way by heart. It kept a sterile smell, dry and powdery like a hospital. Rather than hung by the their hands, each was strapped to something that looked like and upright metal bed, with IV tubes plugged into their veins and wires plugged into their heads and chests. Daehyun had been given a small cushion like the ones he sat on in the house, and so he placed it close to the metal table that sat at the front of each torture room and sat. They would be roused by their IVs soon; he could hear Zelo and a girl from the med crew discussing it as it happened.

His body was shaking slightly, with pesky tears caught up in the corner of his eyes at the thought that they could have stolen him from his masters and sold him off like cattle. He kept his arms close to him to hide how hard his hands were shaking, and in his ear Jongup reminded several times that he could leave if he needed to.

He did not want to go. He wanted to be good for his masters — to be brave such that their plans of petrifying the pests wouldn’t perish.

Kibum was the first to wake, a slight groan to his sudden consciousness only to panic as he found he could not lift his hand to rub at his sore head. “What?” He asked, his eyes shooting open. “What’s going on?” He demanded desperately. Kibum began writhing around in his restraints and trying every thought in his head of how to escape them. “You— You’re that— that pet from before! What’s going on? Let me go!” He writhed and banged against his restraints to no avail, but his thrashing did lead him to the sight of the others. “Boss? Shindong? What’s going on?” He was getting more panicked, and Daehyun could not blame him.

While Kibum had escaped uninjured up until that point, his comrades were already maimed to a degree. The boss had lost one of his eyes to Youngjae’s dart, which remained lodged into the cleaned socket, while Shindong had broken bones that would likely never heal even if set properly and chunks of his skin had been torn away like he had been mauled by a wild beast.

Seeing his friends sent him into a tizzy of panic. “Let me go! Let me go! What did you do to them? Why would you do this to them? Let me go!”

All of his shouting surely roused the others quicker than their IVs could, and the boss awoke next with a desperate cry of pain. “My eye!” He cried out. “My eye! What happened to my eye?” He broke into a whimper of pain. “Where’s the fucker that did this to me? You, boy! Tell me where your master is! Let me go so I can kick his ass for blinding me!” The boss demanded.

Daehyun did not lift his eyes from where his gaze rested on his hands.

“B-Boss, what happened?” Kibum asked. “What’s going on? Where are we? I thought you said this place was safe!”

“I thought it was. Turns out his master was home after all, and he wasn’t too happy to see us,” the boss replied. His voice was cracked and uneven as he struggled with the pain of his eye. Daehyun could tell he was shaking from the way Kibum worried over him.

Shindong was awake, but he was silent. After a couple minutes of the other two panicking amongst themselves, he shushed them. “Kid,” he called out to Daehyun, “the keys are behind you. If you let us out, we can get you out of here. I know a guy that can get you a passport to any country and set you up with a nice Korean family that’ll take care of you. I can get you away from him, all you have to do is untie us. Think about it — no one will ever hit you again, you’ll be free to do whatever you want, and you won’t be raped by him ever again. You could live a good life if you just let us go.”

“Say whatever you’re thinking,” Yongguk was the one to speak in his ear, causing Daehyun to freeze up in shock. He was not aware all of them were listening through the coms.

“You were the ones who wanted to rape and sell me, not them,” Daehyun told Shindong in a quiet, frustrated voice. “If I let you out, it’s still what you would do. You’re disgusting people, and I can’t wait to see what they do to you for this.”

“They?” Shindong asked.

“Pet, stand. Unzip your hoodie and show them the pretty artwork on your chest,” Youngjae instructed over the com. He could hear Youngjae, Jongup, and Zelo bickering briefly because the latter two did not want the rest to interfere with their plans. Still, Daehyun was told to proceed, and so much to the surprise of the robbers, he stood and pulled his hoodie off.

His chest was not quite a masterpiece yet, but Zelo had been working on him when there was time. Running lines circled down his arms in long, wide, lazy waves that touched from his fingertips to the center of his chest, where they crossed and weaved around each other in an interesting pattern of scars. It was still healing, leaving the majority of the pattern as a raised, scabbing wound. It was accented by the bites and lovemarks crossing his shoulders and neck, both from previous rounds and from what Youngjae had done to him that morning. Below on his stomach sat a mountain of bruises which Daehyun had begged for a week to be given the privilege of, and which had since healed to sickly greens, though some were bad enough to keep bluish and reddish tinges to them for longer. He had been caught dawdling in the bathroom more than once so that he could stand in front of the mirror and run his fingers over the painted bruises swelling into a galaxy across his stomach. If they left him by his lonesome for too long, his fingers with minds of their own would press diligently into the array of color until he was relieved by the painful perception of their permanent presence in parallel with his pathetic actuality.

“Turn and show them your back,” Jongup ordered, and so Daehyun did. He could hear the sudden terror among them in understanding of what house they had entered as they viewed the verified masterpiece across his back. He had been shown pictures several times over as it had progressed, and knew the design by heart. At the top, the words ‘PROPERTY OF’ had been cut into his skin over and over until the skin was raised, and then it had been branded carefully such that each of the wounds seemed to bubble and fester as it healed. He had needed pain killers for a week or so after it had been done, and they had put the effort into sedating him for the worst of it, despite all his protests that he wanted to feel it. Zelo had carved around the outside of his tattoo several times over, leaving a thick line of scar tissue around the matoki head, and within two wounded oval wounds sat where the eyes should be. The skin there had been peeled away completely and had since scabbed over in sickly greens and yellows. A similar treatment has been given to the words ‘Masked Rabbit’ to leave them equally grotesque, and to finish off they had branded any remaining open space with the Matoki symbol. The med crew still came nearly every day to give him some topical numbing drugs, so he had never fully felt how beautiful the art looked, no matter how desperately he begged to be allowed the privilege even once. He relished in the slight sting of it, and fought the desire to press into the wounds and gain some semblance of their full form. Maybe if he was lucky his master would throw him into the wall later and let the pain course through him.

The robbers cursed and screamed in fear once the understanding was made, and Daehyun fought back the excited thrill as he turned back to them, and let the energy pulsing through him push his performance. He would not disappoint his masters by showing how truly thrilled he was becoming. He, repeating the words he was told to say, told them to be silent. They were, instantly, and Daehyun in turn continued to repeat what he was told to say in a fearful, quiet voice, as if he was on the verge of tears. “The Masters are quite unhappy with you. Yet, my Masters are so generous and kind, the most benevolent of gods, and so rather than punishing you as they should, they’re going to make you and your loved ones into art more beautiful than even the art they’ve made of me. I hope you appreciate the kindness my Masters are showing you, and do what you can to please them. They’ll be most pleased if you scream loudly, cry, and beg for your lives. Be silent until they cause you pain, or everyone you care for will die in front of you.”

“Please, let us go,” Kibum begged, “please, we’ll help you escape.”

“Say what you’re thinking,” Yongguk ordered over the com again.

“I would never leave my most precious Masters for some pests like you. Why would I? I can’t wait to see what they do to you,” he replied, as twisted, excited smile falling across his innocent face. “Now, be quiet. They’ll come soon.”

The door opened before Daehyun expected it too, and without thinking or being told to do so, too caught up in the fun of his act, he dropped to his proper form on the cushion, eyes down and back rigid. Dada was the first in the room, and Jongup spoke over the com as he approached, “Daehyunnie did so good, I think he deserves a reward.” A small, pleased smile crossed Daehyun’s lips to be the favored possession of the Matoki, and he was thrown back against the hard, cold floor with a pleased groan. Dada’s shoe drove into the feeling mass of bruises across his stomach until tantrums of coughing forced their way out into the room. He pulled him to stand by his uninjured arm and threw him against the wall. A desperate plea bubbled out of Daehyun’s lips — a pathetic, pitiful, “Master,” that hid whether it was pain or pleasure consuming him; until Dada’s hand put pressure on his crotch and forced Daehyun to choked out a raw, needy, and sniveling plea for more. He writhed for friction, whimpered his submission, and whined out of recognition that no matter the need he would not get what he wished when there was work to be done.

“No fluids in the compound,” Yongguk reminded.

“I know,” Jongup replied through the com, “I’m just teasing him. If our Daehyunnie wants it to come to anything, he’ll have to beg for it when works out like usual.”  Dada stepped away slightly, and over the com Jongup said, “that should bruise nicely enough. Zelo, where are you?”

A beep came as Zelo turned his mic back on, “the med crew and I were setting up their IV doses so we can really fuck with them. Give me one minute.” It did not take that long, even, for Toto to enter the room, his large, all-seeing, unblinking eyes fixed on Daehyun. “Back to your seat,” Toto ordered in his high pitched, robotic voice, but layered overtop was a tinge of worry in its human accompaniment. “You probably should’ve waited a little longer to redo the bruises on his stomach,” Zelo said exclusively over the com, something discontent squirming in his tone.

“It’s not like it’ll kill him,” Jongup replied.

“It’s more fun to wait until he begs,” Zelo justified with no credibility. He dropped the subject a moment later to speak through his vocalizer as Toto. “What do you think of them, pet?” Toto near cooed through his roboticism, though perhaps it was Zelo’s actual voice clear in his ear that gave that sort of perception.

“I can’t even imagine how Master’s will make them into masterpieces more magnificent than they could ever claim to deserve,” Daehyun responded softly. “Master’s already made them so pretty.”

“Joko did?” Toto clarified.

“Yes, Master Joko made them beautiful already,” Daehyun agreed wondrously. “Masters are all such talented artists. I’d say Masters had God-given gifts if I didn’t know you were Gods already.” He almost felt embarrassed to speak in such a way, after all the time he had spent hiding his more obsessive speech from them. In the back of his head, Inguk teased him for falling down the rabbit hole, such a silly, clumsy Alice.

“Thank you, Daehyunnie,” Youngjae cooed, and Daehyun’s face grew red as blood. He had forgotten the others were listening. “I’ll reward you later.”

“What’s your favorite art piece so far, pet? Maybe we’ll recreate it,” Zelo suggested. 

Daehyun looked up with wide eyes, burning with excitement. “I’m not sure you should, Master. It— I-It was the pest you killed that first time you allowed me this privilege. You peeled her skin away and pulled her insides outside, leaving them to pool on the floor. Master even painted me with her blood.”

“Good boy,” Zelo responded, with vague prompting from the others, “but you’re right that we shouldn’t repeat that, she died too quickly, and they deserve to suffer for much longer than even the pests you brought us. Tell me who’s scars you like the best, we’ll do that first instead.”

Daehyun bit his lip, afraid of insulting the others by only picking one. Yet, his heart sung that one was the most stunning, and the name escaped him before fear of upsetting them could hold it back, “Joko’s.”

Unexpectedly, there was thunderous cheering from the others, mostly from Youngjae himself, but the others joined in as well. Daehyun looked to Dada with expectant eyes, knowing he of all of them was the most likely to explain his masters’ intense approval. “Jun— Zelo was the one to carve Youngjae’s scars, the rest of us were done by the losers; or for Zelo, it was Toto,” Jongup explained quickly over the com. “Let’s get to it then. The longer I’m in the same room as these fuckers the more I want to kill them.”

So they set into motion, more gruesome and careful than normal. The pain was calculated and studied, enough to wound the wretched flesh but measured to avoid too quick a death. The smell of blood and burning, the symphony of screams, and the pleasure of their tears led Daehyun through his eager excitement, enraptured and captured by his lust for more. He wished to watch them be destroyed like the insignificant bile they were but at the same time a need stirred in his stomach below those gifted bruises that marked their ownership over him. Daehyun was careful, measured in his breath and movement. No matter how much he wanted them to hold him down and take him, all at once until he was broken and used up, it was so much more satisfying to watch them destroy the wretched filth that tried to deprive him of them first.

After an hour of agonizing beauty and talent, Toto stepped away from the bloody mess that was Kibum, who had passed out from the pain he had undergone. “Come here,” he ordered, something fierce in Zelo’s voice that was lost in Toto’s.

Daehyun stood carefully and came to him, only to find his body constricted painfully and a shaking knife pressed into his throat. 

“Look carefully,” Zelo ordered. “Look as closely as you can. This— Even you couldn’t enjoy being put through this sort of pain. Even you would beg for it to stop, just like him.” His hands were trembling, and the knife scraped across Daehyun’s neck as he struggled to keep grip on it. “Look at him and feel what he felt. Look at him and realize— know that you don’t want this to happen to you. This is what will happen to you—This will be you—” Zelo’s hands were shaking, “if you run away, I’ll—” The knife dropped.

“Take him out of the room, Daehyun,” Yongguk ordered quickly, some sort of concern in his voice. “Jae, is there a dorm room nearby? Somewhere without sharp objects?”

“It’s not like he can’t beat him to death,” Himchan replied, the concern heavier in his.

“Daehyun, take him out of there and walk to the right. Go through the next door. You can unmask him once the door is shut— the Joko dorms don’t have cameras anymore,” Youngjae instructed.

Daehyun was hesitant, but followed suit, leaving Jongup behind in order to take Zelo into a room that smelled of smoke, ash, and burning flesh. The lights flickered on above them to reveal black splattered walls casting shadowed lines up from the far corner of the room, as if a contained explosion had happened there. Some of the shadowed lines had dots of rust, but Daehyun didn’t spend long dwelling on them when it was apparent his Master needed him. 

He carefully pulled away at Zelo’s masking until they stood face to face, and just as the first time, Zelo’s face said much more than his voice or his words could manage. “I’m turning off my mic and his entire com,” he said quietly.

“He could kill you,” Jongup replied.

“It would be an honor,” Daehyun replied reflexively, before adjusting his response to a much more accurate, “he’s not going to.”

He pressed his clammy fingers to both of their ears, and watched Zelo deflate with the beeps that promised they were truly alone. Shaking, red-faced, and teary-eyed, Zelo was struggling to keep from balling his hands into fists, pulling his hair out until he was bald, and screaming loudly enough to pull the others to them. His lip bled from where it worried itself between his teeth and when Daehyun reached for him, he shrunk away like it was poison. “I’ll hurt you— I don’t want to hurt you.” The warning came with fear.

“You won’t hurt me,” Daehyun promised.

“I always hurt you,” Zelo replied. “Look— look what I’ve done to you a-already. Look at your back, your chest, at your arm! If you touch me, I’ll break you. How— How many times will we have to do this before you learn to shrink away in fear like the pests down here?”

“You haven’t hurt me since my arm, Jelly,” Daehyun was careful as he tried to unfurl Zelo’s hands. “I know it’s hard, but you need to trust me. I can help if you just trust me— if you just let me help you— so that they— I don’t want them to—” He silenced himself.

“You don’t want them to kill me when our run as the Matoki is over,” Zelo filled in for him. “Not like they did to the last two Totos.” Daehyun gulped and looked away, and Zelo continued despite the earthquakes in his voice that skyrocketed and dropped his pitch. “My bloodline is sicker than Youngjae’s, isn’t it? It’s not like I don’t know. They had to kill my grandfather and my father, though honestly fuck my Dad, he deserved it. Nothing was more satisfying than watching that bastard bleed out with A through D, but that doesn’t change the fact that they’re going to have to kill me too. I came into this knowing that, Daehyun. You can’t change it. Youngjae can’t change it even if he’s tried. Yongguk can’t change it even if he thinks he can control me. I’m going to die at the end of this, and I’m okay with that.”

“Zelo—” Daehyun pleaded.

“I’m maybe even looking forward to it, if it means all these bullshit emotions will stop,” Zelo admitted softly. “That’s why I was put in F, right? Just like Youngjae. Gods don’t have emotions, especially not the God of Death.”

Befor he could say another word, Daehyun pulled him into a tight hug. Zelo froze. “I don’t want you to die,” Daehyun whispered, faint and hurt. His body shook in quakes harder than those that overtook Zelo, and fat tears stained into Zelo’s shoulder. “I don’t— please don’t— I-I need you to— to not die! Please— M-Master, please— I can help. I can fix it, Master.”

“Junhong,” Zelo cut in quietly.

“What?”

“My name is Junhong. I don’t want to be your master right now,” he mumbled, almost as if he was unsure.

“J-Junhong,” Daehyun repeated. “Look, see? We’re touching and you aren’t hurting me, again. You don’t have to hurt me if you don’t want to. You can— You can learn to be like this, it isn’t hard. I can teach you. You don’t have to die at the end of this.”

“I can’t,” Zelo mumbled. “I can’t be like you. If you— if anything happens, I’ll kill you and I don’t want to but I will. All I can ever do to you is hurt you.”

“You aren’t hurting me. Look, right now, you aren’t hurting me. I’m just fine. I’m not hurt at all. You aren’t hurting me, just like you haven’t hurt me since last night. You— Even if you don’t realize it yet, you aren’t hurting me anymore. When you get upset you don’t break anything, Junhong. Last night I thought you would’ve killed all of us but the only thing you hit was the wall. Even if you don’t feel it yet, you’re learning.”

“What if something big happens? If someone tries to take you from us again, or if Youngjae gets hurt, or if you run away? What’s to stop me from hurting you then? I’m not safe to be around, Daehyun. I break everything. I hurt everyone. I’ve even hurt Youngjae— outside of the scarring. Even before it was was time for the candidates to be marked by their Toto’s, I had already hurt him. If Jongup— fuck, if Jongup’s not there to beat the shit out of me, there’s nothing stopping me from hurting any of you.”

“Do you want to hurt us?” Daehyun asked.

“No,” Junhong sniffled.

“Then you can stop yourself,” Daehyun replied flatly. “I may not know exactly how old any of you are, but you’re definitely old enough, Junhong! If you don’t want to do something, then don’t do it! You’re old enough to know how to stop yourself. And— and you know when it’s really bad that you can come to me or Jae or Himchan, fuck you can come to any of us and ask for a hug, just like this. You can talk about what you’re feeling with us, just like you are right now, and we can help you through it. All of us care about you, Junhong, and all of us can help if you don’t want to hurt us.”

It took until lunch for Zelo to fully calm, but after he was able to return to work, however silent he was. Jongup hadn’t been happy with Daehyun when they returned, and while he would not say exactly why, the words, “he kills people when he’s upset like this,” seemed to ring silently through their minds. Daehyun had apologized with a wordless, pleasurable use of his mouth, but found himself to be the needy one by the time dinner struck. His recklessness had been punished with an order to wait until work was finished for the day, at which point he was left to wait in that large playroom they had him in while the others went to take care of some sort of secret business that he was not permitted to watch.

Still, to his delight, they came for him, although they held a new and uncertain nervousness strung between them. “We can still do everything else normally, right? It’s just in between and after,” Himchan was saying as they came through the door, and the others were in agreement, although some more hesitantly than others.

“Well, if we’re doing it normally, then how about you work on his chest a little for me, Jelly?” Youngjae asked. “We can get it done early so it won’t be too overwhelming for him later.”

If Daehyun were being completely honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he was in the mood to be so intensely hurt that night. He still would enjoy it since it was very much something he loved, and he certainly had no objections to roughness in general, but some part of his wanted to say no to being tortured. Not because it was too painful or unpleasant, but rather because he had spent the whole day watching pests be tortured, and wanted to feel special and beloved by being treated differently. In theory he was supposed to tell them such things, as the rule with pets’ consent were rather strict in an attempt to limit the number of pets that needed to be killed or tried to run away, but before he could, Zelo replied.

“Not tonight, Jae,” he had said.

“What?” Youngjae asked in confusion, though there was nothing upset to his tone.

“I mean, like, his back’s really fucked up and I broke his arm already, even if the med crew says he can stand more before his body gives out on him, I feel like we shouldn’t risk it, you know?” Zelo said, although his reply seemed forced and like it had been made up on the spot.

“M-Masters,” Daehyun called, “if it’s alright, I-I think I’d rather you didn’t tonight. Everything already hurts a-and…” he trailed off, nervous.

Youngjae shrugged. “I still call first. Although, like, if Zelo isn’t going torture him, fuck him with me, and then fuck me, then I don’t know that I’m in the mood to top.” As Youngjae undressed and came to lay on the bed, Yongguk and Jongup high fived and called for turns with him after Daehyun’s. The lot of them undressed quickly, and Youngjae laid flat on the bed with his legs wide and bent at the knee. “Come here, pet, I said I’d reward you and I guess this is it.”

Daehyun was hesitant as he crawled between Youngjae’s legs, unaccustomed and unsure in such an unusual situation, yet, when Youngjae pulled him down for a kiss he was able to adjust naturally to his normal submissive role. Even in the position they were in, Daehyun became quickly aware that he was still a means of bringing pleasure to his masters, and any pleasure of his own was certainly his own business. He begged with his kisses for the right to touch, and submitted to Youngjae’s rights to him as his clothes were stripped away and forgotten. From the outside a tube pressed to his hand and a strict order came from Youngjae, “One finger, quickly.” 

Daehyun obeyed without a thought, pleased as he was given permission to stretch his throat around his master’s length while he prepared him. Youngjae’s fingers gripped tight to his hair to keep control of his eagerness, but Daehyun was thrilled all the same. Youngjae was strict with orders of how Daehyun should stretch him too, with firm words of, “another”, “wait”, “move”, and “faster”. Nothing pleased him more than when they came a breathy demands, still controlling but showing that he had done well.

“Pet, stop,” Daehyun pulled away quickly, a small amount of worry to his expression that he might have displeased his master. 

To his side, Jongup and Zelo were sitting side by side, with hands on each other’s erections as the watched he and Youngjae with eager eyes. Behind them, Yongguk was stretching out Himchan slowly, although the two peered over at the others often. The room already felt warm and musky, and the smells of sweat and sex were something he was so accustomed to that they were almost comforting to him.

“Good boy.” Youngjae beckoned him forward like two fingers as if he were a dog, and ever the loyal pet, Daehyun beamed and followed the command. He was pulled into a fierce kiss while Youngjae pressed the heel of his foot into Daehyun back until he obediently slid in.

A high-pitched, pleased moan escaped him, and he hid his face in Youngjae’s shoulder to conceal his embarrassment at how quickly he had broken their kiss.

“Move,” Youngjae ordered, “slow and soft— mm, just like that. Our pet is good at this,” he groaned softly, and Daehyun smiled into his shoulder and obeyed as the orders kept on. This was certainly a greater privilege that he could have ever hoped for, and Daehyun was on his best behavior to prove himself. He was careful and obedient, awarded with breathy praise until Youngjae reached his end. To Daehyun’s surprise, he was given a small break where they just laid together and Youngjae played with his hair.

He could tell they were being careful with him, as the night went on. Each took turns with him, but rather than coming to him one after another to drive him blissfully unconscious, each took their time and laid with him when they were done. Himchan and Jongup even held him and brushed heir fingers through his hair, making him giggle and smile with blind glee at the affection. He kept back tears for fear they’d be misinterpreted as pain when really, they had been giving him what he needed. It did not change the fact that he loved when they were rough and demanding with him, nor the fact that they were for most of the rounds that night, but rather just that they held him after and told him that he did well, that they expressed some sort of affection and enjoyment in his presence, that made his heart swell.

Still, it was five against one and the deck was stacked against him, so it wasn’t long until his eyes drooped shut and his body went limp. “Let’s not overdo it,” Yongguk told the others. “Zelo was probably right in that we shouldn’t risk overstimulating him at the moment; he might go into shock if we take things too far.”

“I don’t wanna move,” Himchan whined. “Whoever didn’t bottom can go page the med crew.”

“No, we’re taking care of him today, not the med crew,” Youngjae insisted. “Although I’m also not really up for moving, so I vote that whoever didn’t bottom can take on all of the clean up duties while we sleep with Daehyunnie.”

“Why do we have to do it? He’s asleep, he won’t know.” Himchan asked.

“Because the internet said we’re supposed to take care of him after,” Jongup cut in. “You two sleep, I guess, we’ll take care of it.” The more conscious three cleaned them off, although apparently Jongup thought that meant laying next to Daehyun and running the tips of his fingers over his cheek rather than actually helping the other two who were working diligently.

“He’s really something, isn’t he?” Jongup whispered. “I probably should’ve just grabbed him when he saw me kill that Crab from Busan in the alley— we could have tied him up and played with him until he wasn’t fun anymore like normal, but I’m glad I didn’t. Even if waiting three months for the rules to clear us nearly killed me, I think we made the right choice.”

“I’m glad you didn’t, too,” Youngjae agreed. “I know it’s the rules and all, but I like how this turned out a lot better than what would have happened if we had followed them. It’s less fun when we  _ have to _ tie them up and gag them instead of just doing it for fun.”

Yongguk let out a soft hum, and the two went rigid at the thought they were about to be scolded for not agreeing with the rules , but instead he said, “I think it’s alright if we break the rules sometimes for him. Only for him, but he’s worth it.”

“He didn’t cry as much tonight,” Jongup noted, his fingers running over Daehyun’s cheek. He pressed the length from his forehead to the tip of his nose against Daehyun’s and laid as close as possible without being on top of him.

“Why are you doing that?” Himchan cut in. “He’s asleep, it’s not like he can feel you being affectionate right now. There’s no point if he doesn’t know, right?”

Jongup shrugged. “I just kind of want to, so I’m gonna.” He pressed closer to Daehyun for a moment before shifting Daehyun’s immobile body around so that he could wrap one arm around him while continuing to use his other hand to stroke Daehyun’s cheek. He nuzzled into Daehyun’s face a little, a small smile across his face.

“Oh,” Himchan said in confusion. “I didn’t realize we were just doing it whenever we want.”

“It’s probably because we were nicer to him than usual,” Youngjae agreed to Jongup’s previous point. “He was moaning a lot more than usual too, usually it’s screaming and whimpering. Maybe he liked it more than usual tonight?” Daehyun would’ve object if he could — chimed in to tell them that whether he was screaming and crying or moaning and begging, either way he was enjoying what they were doing to him and wanted more. Unfortunately, he was swimming in that liminal space between consciousness and sleep, unable to move or speak with any agency or coherency.

“He’s too good at his job,” Yongguk replied softly. “He’ll never tell us ‘no’, so we’ll never really know if he enjoyed it.”

“It’s not going to be easy finding another pet as good at this as he is once he becomes Keke,” Himchan said. “We might be running through pets quickly for a while before we can find one that can really pretend to like the way we abuse them the way he does. I might even miss it if we go back to grabbing people off the street.”

“I don’t know that I want to go back to that,” Youngjae whined. “I like feeling like he enjoys it too. Even if it’s pretty damn impossible for someone to like what we do to him, it’s nice that he at least pretends. We’re going to have to find another pet like him before he becomes Keke.” Daehyun would have objected that he did, in fact, love what they did to him, but unfortunately he was unable to make his jaw move.

“Can’t he just stay a pet?” Jongup asked suddenly, quietly, as he stared at Daehyun’s presumably unconscious face as the familiar treasure it was to him. “Why does he have to be Keke?” If Daehyun could move at all he would be smiling and if he could speak he would shout his agreement, but alas his jaw was slack and his mind unwilling to give him the reign of his body after the trauma he so happily put it through.

“You want him to be happy, don’t you?” Himchan replied.

“Isn’t he?” Zelo cut in. 

“I thought he was,” Jongup agreed. “He constantly clings to us and begs us for more. He was crying at the idea of leaving us, and— and he’s willing to stand the sort of violent fuckery we put him through just to make us happy. Doesn’t— I mean, fuck. He cries a lot, doesn’t he?”

“Didn’t the internet say that sometimes humans cry over happy things?” Zelo replied. “He says he wants to be with us! He says he doesn’t want to leave! Is he lying?” Youngjae slid over with a small, tired groan and pulled him into an embrace, shushing him to keep him from shouting loudly enough to rouse Daehyun. Unbeknownst to them, Daehyun was internally shouting the same things.

“Jelly—” Youngjae placated in a sleepy voice.

“Junnie.” It was silent for half a beat, long enough for Youngjae to blink, and that was it.

"Junnie, he’s not lying, he’s just—” Youngjae struggled for the words he wanted to say. “I mean, yeah, he doesn't want to be apart from us, but that doesn't mean he likes this. Think about his life — on the best days we leave him alone to be bored out of his mind, and on the worst we beat him within an inch of his life, dump a million problems he doesn't care about onto him, and then gang rape him until long after he's unconscious. And— and I get it. He's good at his job so it's easy to believe— easy to think that he actually likes this, that he actually wants this, but we've heard enough stories from previous generations to know, right? Pets burn out fast."

“But he says he likes those things! He asks for more!” Zelo replied in distress.

“Junhong, it’s not that simple. He only wants more because we aren’t ourselves in his eyes— not yet. All he sees in the masks, and when they’re gone, he won’t like it anymore. He won’t ask for more.” Yongguk’s deep, stern voice sent a shiver, in feeling only, up Daehyun’s immobile spine. "In the end, we have to face the facts. The appeal of this job for him is serving the Matoki. It's not us— it's not ever going to be about who we really are with him. That's how fans are. No matter how much time they spend begging to see the real you, they don't actually want to. They just want to see more of that perfect self we mask ourselves with, and when we're different from those selves, when we're flawed or troubled or do things they don't like, they lose interest in us for another obsession.” Zelo lowered his head. It had been years since Yongguk lectured him last.

Himchan was the next to cut in, with hesitant hands wrapping around Yongguk’s middle and a flicker of his eyes to where Jongup was still cuddling Daehyun’s supposedly unconscious form. Yongguk didn’t relax into the gesture, per say, but he didn’t pull away either. “It's why the pests in the basement abandon us — they say it's what they want at first but really what they want is to be special, to be close to us the way he is. Then when we actually, you know, take off the masks, all that magic and perfection that they loved about us is gone. We're just as fucked up, obnoxious, and disgusting as everyone else, and deep down they can't stand it.” 

Youngjae led Zelo’s attention back to him with a hand in his hair. “Deep down, he can't stand it. He's not the way he is because he wants to be with  _ us _ , with the five of us as we really are, he's learned to wear his own mask to please us, just because we're the Matoki. Not us, the Matoki. In the end, he doesn't really want to live a life like this,” Youngjae insisted.

“In the end, he doesn't want us. He wants the Matoki. He wants that perfect masked god that we'll never be. So, if we really want to make him happy, we have to distance ourselves. We have to hide our naked selves and only wear the mask,” Yongguk agreed.

"If we really want him to be happy, and if we want him to continue to love us, the only option is to hide who we are. Fans don't love the person behind the mask, they love the mask itself,” Jongup said sadly. “I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way before. He’ll be happier as Keke, won’t he? Getting to see his brother all the time, knowing we aren’t going to come in and beat or rape him at any point, having his own free will and self back — but still having those masked gods leading him, that’s what will really make him happy.”

“Then, I don’t want him to be happy,” Zelo said forcefully. “I don’t care if he’s happy! I want him to be here with me where I can make sure he doesn’t die and have him do things whenever I need him to! Fuck his happiness! He’s ours and I don’t want to let him go. I don’t want him to go anywhere where he might get hurt.” Youngjae shushed him again.

“Junnie, none of us want to let him go, believe me. We fucked up when we said we wouldn’t get attached. This— it’s not easy on any of us, we just—” Youngjae struggled.

“I want him to be happy,” Himchan said. “We want him to be happy because we care about him, and even if it makes us unhappy, if we care about him we’ll put his happiness before our own. You care about him, don’t you?”

Daehyun wanted to scream. If only he could.

He had to try to tell them. He had to get them to listen. His head pounded and in his unmoving state it all became clear in his obsessive, desperate mind— even if dissenting meant death, he would tell them ‘no’. Even if disobedience meant death, he would refuse to be Keke. He would tell them he did not want to be Keke, and if they didn’t listen— death was preferable to losing his masters. Death was preferable to being kept from them. 

If they wouldn’t listen to him, he would make them kill him. Yes, that was reasonable. Yes, that was right. He would rather die than be kept from them. Dying by their hands would be a privilege he would demand if he couldn’t be with them. Even if they didn’t want to kill him, he knew how to give them reason to.

If they wouldn’t listen to him, he would run away.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It became apparent to his unstable mind that there was only one solution, and no matter how much he detested the idea, it had to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TT I'm sorry if there are errors in this chapter. I'm feeling really sick so it was hard for me to focus while I was checking. Please don't forget to comment!!
> 
> [Tumblr](http://brainboxy.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/youngjaebunny) | [AFF](https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1222652/)

Daehyun had a hard time hiding the quakes in his hands that reflected the storm in his heart. Any moment where he might lose control of himself was a moment he might break in the wrong way such a delicate situation. They had argued passed when Daehyun had actually fallen asleep the night before, with each growing more and more unsure on their stance of his elected position as Keke. There was no doubt in his mind they were all sore-hearted and unhappy, and if he approached them correctly with his thoughts, he could remedy the whole thing. If he approached it poorly, certainly his thoughts would be considered a broken rule. It was a dangerous line, trying to express his own will and opinion to them when neither were things he was permitted the rights to.

He had to be careful of how he expressed his thoughts, and so he had woken up in during the early morning and asked to be brought to his room, however elated he was that Jongup and Junhong had decided to stay with him that night. He had been rehearsing mentally for hours.

‘About becoming Keke — I want to serve Masters in the way that will make them happiest. Bringing you pleasure is what will make me happy, I don’t need anything else. I don’t need freedom; I don’t need Inguk; and, most of all, I don’t need to be kept from you, as you are with your masks off. I like Masters so much like this, and nothing will ever change that. If I could, Masters, I’d like to just stay a pet. I’m so honored Masters thought of me as worthy to join them, but I’d rather just keep on with how we are. I don’t want to leave your side for even a second. Please just let me serve you as a pet. Please just let me stay here with you. I know it’s not my place to ask for things, but if you were to ever give me one gift it would be this. I want to serve Masters as their pet, to bear their beatings, hear their worries, love them with all of me, and allow them every inch of me to play with. Nothing else would make me happier. I love Masters. Please just let me keep loving Masters, here, where I will be happiest.’ That’s what he planned to say. With a timid heart he continued to rehearse mentally, even as he helped Himchan prepare breakfast.

The sound of plate clattering on the table brought him out of his focus, and he looked up from where he had been leaning on the counter to find Himchan setting out everything so that people could make their own plates. Once he had finished, he turned to Daehyun, and stared, awkward and unsure for a long beat.

“Come here,” he whispered, and Daehyun almost remembered his pained, nervous tone from a day he pretended did not happen.

He almost remembered, and so it was no surprise to him that his steps forward led him into Himchan’s arms, nor the way they fixed low on his waist, nor even how Himchan’s hair felt as it brushed across his cheek when he rested his head on his shoulder. Daehyun reciprocated, and held up Himchan’s weight as his master slumped onto him.

“Is it wrong to need this?” Himchan asked in a mumble. “Does it make me weak?”

“I don’t think so,” Daehyun whispered back, “and I don’t think any of them do either. After all, they all need it too, don’t they?” Himchan seemed to shake his head into Daehyun’s shoulder, and so he played with his hair as he continued. “Well, I think everyone knows I need this, but Jae needed it too, remember? When he was coming down from his black out he needed it, and it wasn’t like it was the first time he cuddled with me. It’s the one way to calm Junhong down without letting him break something or kill someone. Jongup has me sit on his lap often enough. You’re not alone in this. We all need it sometimes.”

“After you fell asleep they kept cuddling with you,” Himchan said. “When I asked why Jongup just said he wanted to.”

“See? Then it’s not wrong,” Daehyun comforted, “but, if you’re nervous, you can always just tell them it was because I need affection like this, Master. You can always put it on me, we all know how needy I am.” The words were said lightly, affectionately, and with a small lilt.

Himchan nodded into his shoulder and rocked them slightly. Daehyun, in turn, pressed his face into the bottom of Himchan’s neck and clung to him tightly. He did what he could to hide how he was trembling, to keep his emotions away from his work. The idea of leaving his job as a pet before this work was finished, before knowing he could get each of them to a place where they were not afraid of the human things that made them happy, that terrified him. How could they ask him to be Keke when Himchan was still afraid to hug him? Daehyun thought that should be the priority.

Voices came from the hall as the others came with the wafting smell of food and Himchan stiffened as they neared, yet he did not let go. Daehyun held him as tightly as he could, a silent promise that he was there. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered before anyone could turn the corner to discover them.

“Don’t let go,” Himchan mumbled back.

He was trembling against Daehyun when Jongup and Youngjae entered the room, but neither seemed to pay much mind to them as they were. Jongup had patted Daehyun’s butt as he passed by, but that was the most notice they got from the pair. Yongguk and Zelo came in not long after with equally ambivalent reactions, and Daehyun couldn’t help but smile as Himchan relaxed again.

“Better?” Himchan asked as he pulled away, and Daehyun understood the onus was being put on him. He supposed that meant there was still progress to be made, if Himchan was not comfortable with hugging him because of his own wishes in front of them yet.

“Yes, thank you, Master,” Daehyun replied, as if he had been the one to ask for the hug. He was shooed off toward the table, where Jongup was waiting for his turn at feeding him, but Daehyun paused before he could be pulled down into Jongup’s lap. Fear boiled hard in his chest, cooking him red in the cheeks and pounding at his weak heart. If it was pushed off, it would never be said. ‘Wait until after breakfast’, ‘wait until after work’, ‘wait until whatever arbitrary task is completed next’ — the words were poisonous. Consenting to the word ‘wait’ from his own anxious mind was consenting to the action never being done, the words never being spoken, and his fate never changed. “Masters,” he tried to sound chipper. He did not want them to think he was lying for their sake — despite his nervousness they needed to know he meant every word. He continued after a palpable beat, “about becoming Keke—”

“Now’s not the time,” Jongup was the quickest to cut him off, although the others flinched from the word and Zelo shouted out a terrified ‘no’.

“No! It’s okay, I’m trying to say that I want—” Daehyun was cut off again, with each of them speaking over him at the same time in a cacophony of discontent. No one wanted to hear what he had to say.

“You were told now’s not the time,” Yongguk said sternly. “That counts as an order, Daehyun, and you will not disobey us. Drop the subject or you’ll be punished.”

“I said now’s not the time!” Jongup repeated, simultaneous to Yongguk’s warning. His voice was significantly quieter than the others, but it still came out forceful and frustrated, as if Daehyun had upset him. Their eyes met with distress on both parts and Jongup leaned forward to snatch Daehyun’s unbroken arm in a painfully tight grip and yank him forward, as if trying to force him to sit and behave.

“Dae, I know you’re excited, but please just drop it.” Youngjae said after the two. “This... we need time, okay? Give us time.”

“Now’s not the time, and you know you’re supposed to follow orders,” Himchan warned. “If you keep going, the punishment is a beating. You don’t want that, do you? We’ve never had to punish you, Daehyun, please don’t make us start now.”

“Don’t say it!” Zelo had shouted repeatedly over all of them, covering his ears.

“But, I don’t want—” Jongup yanked him forward by the arm and held his hand over Daehyun’s mouth to keep him from finishing. Daehyun struggled against him and against his better judgement, desperate to let them know that he was trying to say the opposite of what they thought — that he was trying to say something that would please him.

“Don’t say it.” Jongup’s voice came as a harsh warning, and Daehyun could see fear in his eyes. “Don’t say you don’t want to be a pet anymore. Don’t tell me you want to be Keke. Just— Just drop it, okay? It’ll happen eventually so just drop it.” Himchan and Youngjae had frozen entirely, with dismay across both their faces. For Himchan it slowly morphed into worry as he gave Daehyun a begging expression, while Youngjae’s quickly turn to anger with balled up fists and demands similar to Jongup’s. Zelo had started making distressed whining noises and pulling at his hair like he was trying to keep from breaking something.

Daehyun still tried to mumble through his fingers.

Yongguk’s hands slammed on the table, silencing his with a quick run of fear as their rule-driven leader stood. His was demanding and frustrated — giving clear signs that Daehyun was to back down and submit or face the price. “What has gotten into you? You were told to drop it several times, those are direct orders! You’re not allowed to disobey us! And what were you trying to say? You don’t get to have ‘want’ and ‘don’t want’ in your vocabulary. You aren’t allowed to have a will of your own.  If you don’t stop and behave yourself now, you’re not only looking at a beating for a punishment, I’ll— fuck— I’ll shoot your brother too. Apologize, sit down, and shut up!”

Daehyun’s eyes went wide and his hands trembled with fear at the empty threat, but some part of his stubborn heart still thought he could speak quickly enough to remedy the situation. Jongup mistook the fear on his face to mean compliance and let go, with each of them glaring daggers that stabbed him through the chest. “Please—” Daehyun sobbed, “I’m trying to say that I can’t stand being—” 

He only managed as much as he did because Youngjae had tried to hold Jongup back, only to let go when it was apparent Daehyun was still breaking the rules. Jongup’s chair slammed back into the floor as he stood and before Daehyun could say another word a stinging back-handed slap sent him sliding onto his right shoulder on the ground. “Don’t!” Jongup shouted, distress apparent in his voice. “Don’t say it! I can’t— I couldn’t— This is— Don’t you know that— Just drop it! Please, do what you’re told and shut the fuck up!”

Another chair fell as Zelo ran from the room, and the sounds of vases hitting the wall came shortly after.

“Master—” Daehyun sobbed with tears brimming in his eyes. He made no attempt to stand but rather looked up with a hand clutching at his reddening cheek as he shook and fought back the choking noose of shame growing around his throat. They were upset with him, upset enough to punish him; it was his worst nightmare.

“Daehyun, be quiet! If you say another word, I’ll lock you in the compound for a week and the only contact you’ll have will be with the med crew,” Yongguk insisted. “No free will and no disobedience — we will not be questioned. We own you. You understand that, right? Your free speech and our kindness toward you are both privileges, and if you don’t follow the rules they can and will be taken away. I mean it, open your mouth again, even to apologize, and you’ll be without us for the next week.”

Daehyun went silent near instantly, with the terror clear in his expression. His trembling lips fell open only for him to shut them tight, bow his head, and cry quietly to himself as he waited for some sort of order. He couldn’t be without them. Even a week would be too long.

“Jongup, go stop Zelo from destroying the whole house. Try to avoid hitting him if you can. Youngjae, Himchan, pull him up. We’re going to have to punish him,” Yongguk ordered, and Daehyun let out an unwilling whimper in response. Still, he didn’t fight when hand pulled on his arms and let them move him around like a ragdoll. They withdrew when he bent over the table face down. One of them — Youngjae, he thought — was holding his head down by the hair and pulling lightly on the collar to establish pressure on his throat while the other — Himchan, probably — held his hands against his back to keep them from moving like a pair of human handcuffs. 

Yongguk’s footsteps trailed out and back into the room, and Daehyun waited silently for what was coming. There was no pain he would object to, nothing physical they could do to him that he would not love. However, the fact that this beating came out of anger and hurt rather than praise, that is what made the pain of it unbearable. That is what made matters unpleasant.

A long flat paddle hit against his ass with no warning, and Daehyun whined low in his throat at the sting. How could this situation have turned so sour? How could he have messed everything up so severely? Youngjae hand tightened on his collar, and his deep voice, having lost its usual sweet and excited edge, ordered, “be quiet.” He didn’t lighten up on the collar after his words, but rather it seemed that with each noise Daehyun made he would bring himself closer to being choked. Everything gentle and soft about his kindest master had been lost, and the other two were much the same.

Daehyun could only cry harder at the change in Youngjae’s mannerisms. He bit at his tongue until it bled to keep back any other noises, completely unwilling to further disappoint his masters.

There was no count for how many times he was hit. There was no explanation of what his punishment was. All there was were sharp hit against his lower back, his thighs, and his backside until he had cried out all his tears and was caught up in his own miniature earthquake instead. He was sore and pained like a properly punished pest and it hurt him to think that in those moments that was what he truly was.

The hits stopped as suddenly as they began. Neither Himchan nor Youngjae let Daehyun up immediately, as if they themselves were not sure when the punishment had ended. “The rules say—” Himchan whispered.

“What does it matter if we hit him when we know he likes it?” Youngjae challenged. “I think you should end it there.”

Yongguk sighed, deep and troubled. “Jae’s right. He likes being hit too much for beatings to be effective punishments. Besides, I— maybe he’s worth bending the rules for. Not breaking them outright just— not following them to the letter. If social isolation is what shut him up, it’s probably the more effective punishment.” The others agreed, and Daehyun was allowed to stand up straight again. “Let’s go,” Yongguk ordered, “you’ll be in your room for the rest of today and tomorrow for your insubordination.”

The look of complete horror on Daehyun’s face told them they had picked appropriately.

As much as Daehyun wanted to scream, he was silent as he was brought upstairs. The fact that his punishment might be made longer, or that some harm might actually come to Inguk if he was disobedient, scared him enough to keep him silent as he followed Yongguk slowly up the stairs until they reached his attic bedroom.

“Sit on the bed,” Yongguk ordered, and when Daehyun complied, he came to sit at the far edge of the bed. The space between them blew a cold wind over Daehyun, who did what he could to make himself smaller and more apologetic-looking in hopes of gaining sympathy.

He seemed to succeed.

With a sigh, Yongguk scratched at the back of his head and looked at the wall instead of his pet. “You know the rules, Daehyun. What you did today was strictly not allowed, and I’m shocked that you didn’t stop when told to. Don’t bring up Keke again. I understand you’re eager, and it will happen in time, but none of us are— now is not the time to discuss such things. If you ever bring Keke up again, you’ll be put in a dorm in the compound by yourself for a full month. If the solitude isn’t enough persuasion for you, just remember the inconvenience that is to us. They all— they need you, and taking you away for a full month wouldn’t be good for any of them.”

Yongguk went silent for a moment, but when he looked back to Daehyun there as a sort of fierceness to his expression. “I told you before, they’re attached to you, and I won’t let you hurt them. This— this Keke thing— it’s hurting them. I know you want it, but they need time. I won’t let you quit being a pet for a couple months, not until they’ve detached themselves, so you’ll have to stand us until then.” Daehyun opened his mouth only to get a harsh look. “No, you’ve lost you’re right to speak for the next two days, Daehyun. If you say anything, anything at all, you’re punishment will be increased.”

Daehyun withdrew into himself, hurt and unsure of what to do. 

“Speaking is a privilege,” Yongguk asserted. “Most Matoki pets in the past have been given a handful of things they’re allowed to say, but on the grounds that you’re usually so well-behaved, we let you express yourself freely. You’ve lost your right to that for the next two days, and if you give me reason to, I’ll take it away all together. Is that understood?”

Daehyun chewed his lip and gave a sad nod.

“Good. Now, remember, you aren’t allowed to disobey us. You aren’t allowed to have wills of your own. If I hear another ‘I want’ statement out of you, ever, you’ll face a full punishment. We’re being nice to you this time — the rules call for you to be beaten half to death for what you’ve done. This punishment itself is a privilege, and it’s one you’re going to need to prove yourself worthy of.” Yongguk paused to lean forward and undo Daehyun’s collar, and then placed the leather strip on the nightstand. “This is a test, pet. You don’t have to wear your collar for the next two days,  but you aren’t allowed to leave this room, speak, or break any other rules. If you stay here, and stay silent as you stay here, then these two days will be your only punishment. Prove yourself to still be an obedient, good pet and this will be it. You’ll be forgiven. But, if you speak, if you make any noise, or if you break the rules again, your punishment will be made a hundred times worse.”

Yongguk stood and, as an afterthought, noted, “someone from the med crew will bring you a meal later today, but only one. Do not speak with them. Do not look at them. Do not interact with them. You’ve lost those rights too.”

The door shut. Daehyun curled into himself, rolling onto his side on the bed, and cried.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of self-loathing and tears, as Daehyun grappled with the terror that was fully disappointing his masters for the first time. Never in his life had he felt so rotten nor hurt than having come into the situation with good intentions only to inevitably cause harm to his precious masters.  He was ashamed of himself, but moreover he was still determined. He wouldn’t be Keke.

He would not be Keke.

To deprive him of them for even two days was too much for his obsessive mind and at every moment of sorrow there was voice screaming silently that his whole life could become this way if he let it. He would rather die than let it.

Death, if communication was not possible, was the only answer in his twisted and unstable mind. He would rather die than be without them. If they planned so resolutely to ignore everyone’s wishes and doom him to be apart from them, he would give them reason to kill him. It was the only way, in his obsessed mind. Surely, most others would have found less destructive paths, but Daehyun could not help how his mind brought things to extremes.

He would die, then. If he had to, he would.

The door opened while he stewed in his new plot, long after the sky had darkened and the day withered away. “Dae, sit up,” it was Jongup calling to him, in a soft but firm voice.

When Daehyun complied he found that Jongup looked frustrated, sad even, but not apologetic. His eyebrows knit together and his lips were pulled into a downturn, but he held no sense of remorse. “You still can’t speak,” Jongup asserted before saying anything else. “I just— I wanted to say— this— fuck.”

There was a long pause as Jongup buried his face in his hands and rubbed at his eyes and hairline with stress, but eventually he tried again while staring down the wall. “This is hard for us. Even Jae— he’s the best at it but— it’s not easy to— fuck— to feel shit. I wish I was strong like him, okay? I wish I had that sort of strength where I could like— fuck— I don’t know— feel my feelings. I wish I could feel my feelings the way Jae can. I wish I was able to just know what I needed to fix it but— but this isn’t easy for me. Youngjae’s the only one of us that can, like, face this shit head on without wanting to break everything within a ten mile radius and even then even then it’s still hard for him. We aren’t good at it. You— You need to get that, okay? Just— none of us know what’s gonna piss us off, so you need to figure it out and avoid it. I don’t— I don’t want to hit you. I don’t want to be like Zelo, but— fuck. It’s so hard. How do you just go around feeling all the time. Doesn’t it get exhausting?”

Jongup sighed. “I guess, what I’m trying to say is that this shit sucks and none of us know what the fuck we’re doing. Zelo and I? We’re fucking losing it or something. I’ve been trying — I don’t know — to make a good impression I guess, but this isn’t easy for me. So just just don’t do that ever again, okay? Don’t bring up Keke again. I can’t take it.”

Jongup gulped suddenly, and scooted toward Daehyun until their knees were touching. “I’m not supposed to do this, but,” he whispered, “ and then he pressed a needy kiss to Daehyun’s lips. 

Daehyun, despite his pain throughout the day and the bruise darkening on his cheek, kissed back with the same desperate, needy vigor and let Jongup pushed him back onto the bed. He wouldn’t speak, and he would move outside of his lips for fear of extending his punishment, but he happily let Jongup take from him everything he wanted, until they were both breathless and panting.

“We’re going out tonight for work,” Jongup mumbled against his lips. “Be good while we’re gone, please. I can’t— I need you to— Two days is— fuck. Just, behave yourself.” With those words, Jongup left the room, and Daehyun listened carefully as feet trailed down the stairs all the way to the basement, pair after pair until surely all five of them were gone.

If he weren’t so set on causing them to kill him, perhaps better judgement would have stopped him from darting for the top drawer of his night stand. He dug through the small cartridge boxes there until he found the one he had stashed Youngjae’s com in. At the time of stealing the small device, right after the robbers had come only two nights before, he had thought he would only use it to listen in when he was scared or call for help when there was danger, but not he found another purpose, one that could help him run away.

He turned the receiver on but did not switch on the speaker, such that he would be able to hear without being heard. Much to his relief, no one was on the com system yet, meaning his entry wouldn’t be registered by anyone. 

He needed to hear them. If he ran away to radio silence, to the true reality that he was without his masters, he would lose his mind, but if there voices carried him along on his perilous journey then he thought he could make it. With each of them that turned on their coms and graced him unknowingly with their voice, his obsessive heart grew calmer and more sure of his decision. Once all were online and certainly out of the house, Daehyun stood and left his room, going down to the living room to fetch a pen and paper before returning.

“I DON’T WANT TO BE KEKE.” He wrote in large letters across the top of the page. “I know my most precious and wonderful Masters are sore on the subject because they don’t want me to be Keke, but they don’t need to be. I don’t want to be Keke, I want to be with Masters. Masters think being Keke will make me happy, but it will only do the opposite. Losing Masters like that will destroy me. I want to be by my Masters’ sides forever. I want to serve you diligently and loyally as your obedient pet. That is the only fate that will bring me happiness. 

I like that Masters beat me. I like that Masters make violent love to me. I like that Masters use me. All of these things bring me happiness. If I make Masters happy, then I am happy. If I can help Masters in some way, even if it is just offering my body as stress relief, then I will be happy.

Masters won’t listen to me. Masters would not let me say that I WANT TO BE A PET. I DO NOT WANT TO BE KEKE. Masters have decided against their own will and mine that we will all suffer in the name of my happiness, when it will not make me happy. Masters make me happy. I would rather die than be without Masters. If you are going to force me to be Keke, then I will force you to kill me. If you will not listen, then this is the only way.

I will still be good. I could never betray Masters, even if things have turned out this way. Jongup said you own the cafe that I met Inguk in, so I will go there using one of the pods. I’ll sit in the reserved private room that we had met him in, without speaking or looking at anyone, and without movement, until Masters come to kill me. I promise I won’t speak to anyone. I will not look at anyone. I will be a good boy, even if you must kill me. Perhaps Masters will reward me with a beautiful death instead of a quick one. Maybe, maybe Masters will even let me stay a pet. Please, Masters. I’ll be good. I’ll give you anything and everything you want with a smile. I just want to be a pet. I just want to be with Masters.

Love,

Daehyun”

After signing his name, Daehyun wiped away the tears staining his cheeks yet left those staining the page. He left it on his bed, since he supposed that’s where they would check for him, and left in a hurry before he could convince himself to stay.

As he approached the door to the basement, it became clear to him. The day he had promised Zelo would never happen had come. The day his Master feared had come. It hurt. 

He would prove himself to them. Even with his rule-breaking, he would prove himself to be good. All other rules would be maintained to the letter, but Daehyun had to make a point, and he had to die if they would not listen. If they didn’t want him as a pet anymore, he would die. They would still want him, right? They had to want him. He wanted them. He wanted them to want him. He didn’t want to die if he didn’t have to. As much as death by their hands would be an honor, a life by their side was so much more sweet.

He walked through the subway station under the house with a nervous heart. He had come to far to turn back, but still he felt paralyzed in moving forward. Fear crashed over him in waves and sobs racked his shores at the realization of what he was doing. They cut at his banks and carved up his shores, leaving him a hollow path for the two to course through. How could he do this? Shouldn’t he turn back. He should turn back. It was a bad idea! A terrible, horrible idea and he needed to run back to the house immediately before they realized he was gone!

“Does Daehyun really have to be Keke?” Zelo asked suddenly over the com, while the lot of them were in the middle of their work.

“Now’s not the time, Jelly,” Youngjae replied softly, “but, you saw how determined he was today. He doesn’t want to be a pet anymore. There’s not really any other option now, not when he’s actively trying to fight for us to let it happen already. I know it sucks, but we all agreed that we want him to be happy. We can find another pet, but Daehyunnie is going to be Keke.”

Daehyun left for the cafe.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate had come for him.
> 
> “You ran away.” It was barely a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism always welcome! Also, if you want to give me any thoughts on the changes or compare the two versions at all, I'd like that ^^ Even if you like the original better, please dont be afraid to tell me!!~

“Please, just let me make sure he’s still there,” Zelo begged over the com to the others. From what Daehyun could gather, they had just made it back to the compound. Yongguk had doled out more work to Himchan and Jongup, but Youngjae and Zelo were free. “Just let me make sure he didn’t run away.”

“He wouldn’t,” Youngjae placated. “We all know he’d never do that, Junnie.”

Daehyun, with his mic off so they could not hear him, whimpered low in his throat and pulled his knees to his chest, before burying his face in them. The air in the cafe was cold and the smell of coffee was not that of his Masters’ usual brew, leaving an unfamiliar and uncomfortable edge as he waited to be found out. The only advantage was that he was in a private room, where none of the other patrons could worry over his distress. His face was puffy from three hours of tearful waiting but since then he had dried up, only wracked with the dry sobs that seemed to hurt so much more. His throat was sore from the distressed noises he was making, his hair ruffled from pulling and yanking on it, and his lips chapped and bleeding from biting. The blood mixed with the saliva and snot to drip down from his taut frowning mouth to his chin and stained the knees of his jeans. He pressed his hands into his neck where the collar would be repeatedly, until the bruises sang his anguish and air choked itself back to reside stale in his lungs.

“He’s being punished, that means no human contact,” Yongguk asserted. “Jongup already snuck in when he wasn’t supposed to, how is this supposed to be a punishment when you all keep visiting?”

Youngjae tried to placate Zelo’s frustrated wail. “How about I just pull up the GPS, Jelly? You’ll be able to see exactly where he is, I promise. Heck, we have enough of them in him that you’ll be able to tell the exact position he’s laying in.” Daehyun froze with fear. What if they checked the trackers? They’d see he was gone before reading his letter! It would all be for naught if they didn’t read the letter he’d written them — just a betrayal with no reason! How could he have been so stupid!

“No, what if he cut them out or they malfunction or something,” Zelo insisted, his voice whiny and demanding. “I promise I won’t even talk to him! I’ll just peek my head in, and if he’s still there I’ll leave, promise.”

“Guk, just let him. So long as he doesn’t stay to talk with him or anything, it should be fine. It’s better than… you know… while Daehyun’s not here,” Himchan cut in.

“Fine, go check his room. Don’t speak to him and don’t interact with him. But… just… look and see if he’s alright, too, I guess. If he’s still crying, I guess it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you hugged him or something— but that’s it. He’s being punished. We can’t be too soft on him.” Yongguk seemed to be struggling to keep on with the rules he had made. He was so noncommittal it was almost as if he was debating abandoning his own duties and running upstairs to check on Daehyun himself.

Footsteps came faintly over the com and Daehyun shrunk and whimpered with each one. His heaving breaths rocked his whole corpse of a body and he shrunk further in an attempt to disappear as the door to his room creaked over the com. “Daehyun?” Junhong sounded panicked already. “Daehyun?” He called louder.

“What’s going on? Is he alright? Is he hurt?” Jongup asked. He didn’t sound like himself in any way Daehyun had heard him before, too panicked, too invested, those things Daehyun never knew Jongup to be.

“He’s not here!” Junhong cried. There was a distinct rustling coming through his com, making his voice harder to hear, and soon it was accompanied by the sounds of rough hits against skin. “Where is he?” Junhong demanded in a strained, choked voice.

“What do you mean he’s not there?” It was Jongup that spoke first, his voice raised in it’s own uncharacteristic panic. Footsteps came pounding up the stairs and Youngjae’s harsh breaths joined Junhong’s.

“That’s impossible,” Himchan breathed, uneasy. “Check the bathroom— the playroom— the kitchen. Maybe he just got hungry or something? I’ll check the room the robbers are in— the room his friends were in. He has to be here somewhere, he wouldn’t just leave.”

“Youngjae, get back down to the compound,” Yongguk ordered. “Pull up his trackers. Find out where he is. Junhong’s probably just missing him or something.”

“Junhong’s— Junhong’s right. Daehyun’s gone. He’s not here.” Youngjae said next, his voice coming fast. “His room and the bathroom are empty. I checked in our bedrooms and the playroom on the way up too, all the rooms in the house are empty.”

“What do you mean they’re empty?” Yongguk demanded.

“I mean he’s not here! He ran away!” Youngjae shouted. His voice cracked, and a moment later he was sobbing loudly over the line. Daehyun sobbed along with him, those dry, painful sobs that tied a noose around his neck and hung him. He rocketed forward like he was on the verge of vomiting, his forehead slamming into the table with the drop of his heart. His teeth clenched and he traded the pressure on his neck for rough yanks of his hair, as if pulling weeds from a garden. He picked his head up and slammed it into the table again with what was left of his energy.

“This isn’t possible,” Himchan said strictly, out of breath. “You’ve got to be wrong! He wouldn’t run away. Never. That’s not— he’s not— he’s got to be here somewhere. Maybe he needed to call the med crew or something! He wouldn’t leave us. He wouldn’t!”

“He’s gotta have a reason,” Jongup agreed in a shaky voice. “He wouldn’t just run away! Right? He didn’t— he didn’t hate being a pet that much, did he? Did I— was it ‘cause I hit him? I didn’t— I’ve been trying so hard not to but he— he wouldn’t— he never listens and— it’s my fault, isn’t it? He wouldn’t have just done this on his own! He wouldn’t have just left without a reason! It’s ‘cause of me.” Jongup’s voice got quieter and quieter as he grew more and more distressed. Perhaps he was still speaking, but Daehyun could not hear him over his own sobs any longer.

“J-Junnie,” Youngjae’s voice was shaking as he stammed over the com line.

“No! No, stay away! I don’t wanna hurt you!” Zelo screamed. The rustling accompanied by the sounds of skin repeatedly, roughly pounding against skin did not stop, nor did Zelo’s whimpers even as they were met with sniffling and sobbing from Youngjae.

“J-Junnie, please—”

“Leave me alone!” Junhong cried, and if Daehyun could have, he would have tackled him in a hug and rocked them back and forth, promising him again and again that everything would be okay. The coffee shop only a couple miles away suddenly felt like it was light years from the house and the people he had hurt with in it.

Suddenly, there was a loud beep.

“Zelo just smashed his com, he’s still here with me,” Youngjae explained. “What’s—? He wrote a letter,” Youngjae redirected himself. Daehyun breathed a sigh of relief. At least they would know why.

“Jae— please don’t read it. Please, I— I don’t want to hear about how much he hates us. I— he— I can’t take it. Please—” Jongup begged. 

“No,” Youngjae’s breath seemed to be caught up in his throat. “No, it says the opposite.”

“What?” Too many voices came at once for Daehyun to be sure of who was speaking. Others decried Youngjae as a liar or demanded he read the letter out loud. With everyone talking at once, he didn’t understand a word.

There was the rustle of the paper and then Youngjae read, “I don’t want to be Keke.” Small, hiccupping gasps interrupted him as he read through the rest of the letter out loud, slowly falling into hysterical sobs before Youngjae could choke out Daehyun’s name. “We did this,” he choked on his own words. Daehyun could hear Zelo sobbing in the distance.

“He wants to stay a pet?” Jongup almost sounded hopeful. “But— he’s— I hit him and— he ran— the rules say— if pets— we have to—” A loud beep came suddenly.

“Jongup?” Yongguk asked, but there was no response. He sighed. “Youngjae, get back downstairs and to your station immediately. You can track offline coms, right? Figure out where Jongup’s going and then check to make sure Daehyun’s where he says he is. Bring Junnie with you if you can, he’ll destroy the whole house if you leave him alone like this.”

“Guk, Jongup’s right,” Himchan said, his voice shaky but controlled. He was used to controlling his reactions for work, it only made sense.

“Right about what? He didn’t say anything that made sense,” Youngjae snapped.

“You didn’t really listen, did you?” Himchan snapped back. “The rules are pretty clear about what happens if a pet runs away, Youngjae. They say we have to kill any pet that leaves the house without our permission. Daehyun ran away.”

“The rules say we have to kill him,” Yongguk realized. “Junhong would probably have to do it, I don’t think any of the rest of us could.”

“No!” Youngjae shouted. Someone spoke faintly in the back of Youngjae’s line. Junhong’s voice had gone so soft the com couldn’t properly register it. “They’re saying we have to kill him because of those bullshit rules! They’re saying that you have to kill him because you’re the only one that could stomach it.” 

“No! No, he can’t die! I won’t let you— I won’t let  _ me _ — I won’t do it! I’m not going to do it! You can’t make me! Please, don’t make me. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt him anymore, please, please don’t make me. I don’t wanna do it. I don’t want him to die. I can’t— If I lose him too— like my sisters— like F— no, I can’t! I can’t take it. Please, I can’t take it. I won’t kill him. I won’t hurt him! I don’t want to! I don’t want to! I don’t want to!” Junhong’s wailing made it impossible to understand anything else Youngjae said clearly, but then in an instant it faded into nothingness.

“What happened to Junhong?” Himchan asked.

“He just ran out, it doesn’t matter right now— we can’t kill him! It’s our fault!” Youngjae replied. “If we had listened—” It was clear he was rushing somewhere as he went. “Gukkie, please, the rules are dumb and we all know it. Yes, sometimes they’re smart: make sure all pets consent so they’re less likely to run away, don’t let wild Toto-murderers run around freely killing people like Zelo’s probably doing right now, don’t replace the inhaler in the Dada mask because while it’s inconvenient that he can’t speak it would be less convenient if he died from a sudden, unexpected asthma attack— but this one doesn’t work in this case! We were the ones who fucked this up, not him. He tried to tell us, he was willing to do anything to tell us that he wanted what we wanted, and we fucked up.”

“The rules are the rules, Jae,” said Himchan when Yongguk failed to reply. “I would give anything for it to be different— I’d rather die than kill him but— but the rules are supposed to be the foundation of everything, they’re what’s supposed to keep the Matoki running and on the right path. How can we go against them?”

“I don’t care about the rules,” Youngjae said sharply. “I’ve never bothered following them and I’m not about to start now.”

“You’ve never broken them either,” Himchan pointed out.

“I don’t follow the rules,” Youngjae repeated, “I follow Yongguk. I’ll fight both of you tooth and nail about this, but in the end, he’s our Shishi— he’s our leader. What  _ he  _ decides is best for us is what’s best for us, not the rules. Fuck the rules. Gukkie, please, we can’t kill him. Think about what that would do to Junhong and Jongup— I can’t lose them, please. The rules don’t matter. Why the fuck does some group one-hundred-something-year-old men’s stupid rules matter more than our actual thoughts and feelings— than what’s actually happening and relevant to us now? The things they thought can’t apply to us, they were living in a different time than us! A time without Daehyun! How could they possibly know anything about our lives now? We can’t kill him, Gukkie, please. Please, for Junnie— for Gup— for me.”

“Did you check the coms?” Yongguk asked, his voice quiet. It pulled a pained sob both from Daehyun and from Youngjae.

“It looks like Jongup’s on his way to the cafe where Daehyun is. Junhong’s is gone, I’m not getting a signal, oh— wait. Wait, no. What the fuck?” Youngjae had started to stammer and sob again, unable to fight back whatever he was feeling. Daehyun from his booth began shaking, if he could see all the functioning coms, did that include his?

“What?” Yongguk asked.

“There’s a com on, in the cafe where Daehyun’s supposed to be,” Youngjae continued to stammer and stutter, getting worse as he spoke. The last two words were near impossible to understand. “He’s listening.”

Daehyun’s face paled and his hands shook. It had not occurred to him that they would know. It had not occurred to him that they could check to see the active coms at any moment, nor that they would see him among them and find out that in his desperation to stay with them in some form, he had stolen a com and ran away with it just to hear them and know they were coming to get him.

“Daehyun, turn your mic on,” Yongguk’s voice came fierce and dangerous, and a moment later Daehyun’s own sobbing reverberated through the com system. It was silent for a couple seconds, as if they were listening to make sure it was him. Then, Yongguk requested, “say something, anything,” in a soft, almost hurt tone.

“Please d-don’t kill me— I just w-want to be with you,” Daehyun did not know where the words came from, only that they spilled from his lips with no hesitation or forethought. Hadn’t it been a dream to die at their hands? Why was he so scared? “Please, I just want to be with you. I just wanted you to listen to me. Please, Master, I’ll be good. Wasn’t I a good pet? I-I just want to be yours. I’d do anything just to be yours and nothing else. I don’t want to be anything else.”

“Do you regret running away?” Yongguk asked.

Daehyun didn’t know. “I just wanna be with you. I just wanna be yours,” he repeated in between hysterical sobs. “I don’t wanna die, please, Master. No— No I don’t wanna die, but— but I’d rather die than lose you. I’d rather die than be without any of you!” His voice cracked and came shaky and wavering as he continued. “I don’t wanna die. Please, Master— Gukkie— Yongguk— please, I just want the five of you to love me. I’ll be good from now on if you just love me and never let me go. I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be so good. I’ll be the best pet you could ever dream of. I’ll never talk again if you want. I’ll never disobey. I’ll let you do anything you want to me. I promise I’ll never even have a thought you don’t tell me to think just as long as I get to be yours forever. I love you so much, please.”

“Fuck,” Yongguk hissed, accompanied by sobs from the other two. “Dae, take the com out of your ear and put it on the table. Just— just stay there, okay? Fuck. Just stay there for now. Put the com on the table, quick.”

Daehyun did as he was told. The com broke itself suddenly, in a burst of smoke and cracking plastic, as if they had detonated it from afar. Daehyun’s eyes dropped to his hands, and he did not move again. 

The smell of burning plastic filled the room even after a waitress came to check on him, collected the little burnt lump in a dark plastic bag, and carried it out of the room. She came back a couple minutes later to clean the table of any trace of it, then again with a warm cup of hot chocolate which she left on the table. She hummed a small tune as she went to and fro, as oblivious to the bawling boy in the booth as he was to her. Daehyun’s shaking sobs still racked through him, waves that washed away his shores and left him barren and empty — no beach, no sand, no beautiful shells, and no one there inside. In his meditative sorrow, the time passed in blinks, where one moment of consciousness was so quickly forgotten as to not have happened at all.

He had no idea how long it had been when the door opened and closed again, but Daehyun didn’t look up to see who had entered.  The newcomer slid into the booth next to him, crowding him into the wall with their body and familiar scent. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up but still he did not move nor speak.

Fate had come for him.

“You ran away.” It was barely a whisper.

Jongup had come for him.

“You can talk if you want to,” Jongup told him. “I— I’m not here with them. This isn’t— I’m not going to— I’m—  _ You ran away, Daehyun _ . You know what that— the rules—Yongguk loves the rules— we’d have— he never breaks them— they— you— I—” It was getting harder and harder for him to speak.

Daehyun took a deep breath, then took Jongup’s face in his hands, pressed their foreheads together, and spoke in a shaky voice. “I ran away. The rules say they have to kill me now. Yongguk never breaks the rules.” His voice cracked, and then he was sobbing. He wasn’t sure if he moved on his own or if Jongup pulled him, perhaps some combination of the two, but quite suddenly they were pressed close together, with their arms around each other and their faces pressed into each other’s necks. Daehyun sobbed just a bit harder when he felt something suspiciously similar to tears with each brush of Jongup’s eyelashes. “Is there a chance, Jongup? I don’t want to leave you. I still wanna be with all five of you…” Jongup didn’t answer. “Please at least have the decency to lie to me. Just help me believe for a little bit before it’s over.”

“H-How could you do this to us? Why w-would you split us up like this? I can’t be without— How could— I said two days was too long, Daehyun! Death is a lot longer than two days, how am I supposed to make it with how long you’ll be away from me? I— I don’t want to lose you,” Jongup said, is speech so slow and labored it felt like minutes could pass between words. “I hit you,” he mumbled into Daehyun’s neck.

“You guys beat me and torture me all—”

“It was different this time.” Jongup was right. He had never been punished before that morning, and he had never made Jongup angry enough to hit him before then either. It had been different. They pulled away to look at one another again. “I shouldn’t have— I should have listened. Even if I don’t like what you’re saying, I should— it’s just— it’s so hard, Daehyun. When I was trying to be Dada I turned this all off. Why did you— why did you have to ruin me? If I’m like this, then what makes me better than A, or C through F? I can’t even kill— I can’t even hurt— I know what I’m supposed to— I can’t— You ran away.”

Jongup, with all his anguish welling up and threatening to spill over, pressed his lips against Daehyun’s in a needy, desperate kiss. It was harsh and endless, drawing blood from Daehyun’s sore, swollen lips and bitten tongue, and Jongup did not let up until Daehyun’s lungs were on fire. The moment Jongup went more than an inch away from him though, Daehyun would surge forward back into another kiss. He needed Jongup; he needed to be loved for whatever time he had left. 

“Please,” he begged in a soft, broken tone. “I wanna be yours. Let me be yours again.”

Jongup let out a shaky, needy exhale, and then pressed his lips back to Daehyun’s in such fervor that it was as if he expected Daehyun to be pulled from him at any moment, never to be seen again. The burning fever devoured them in their hungry kiss, one that lasted like every kiss prior, but with a renewed sense of desperation.

It died down slowly, painlessly, until they were no longer kissing but rather resting with their faces close, lips still brushing and noses still bumping. “I’m sorry,” Jongup whispered. “I shouldn’t have— I should’ve heard you out. Even… if you’re going to say something I don’t like… I should listen. Even if it hurts. Even if I don’t want to hear it. If I had just let you speak this morning—”

“There’s no use in ruminating on it.” Daehyun replied, faint against his lips. “I should’ve been clearer from the start. I should’ve phrased it differently. But there’s no use dwelling, is there? We’re here now, I’m still here with you, and if you still want me that’s where I’ll stay forever. Please just promise me I’ll be yours again. Please tell me I’m not gonna lose you. I just want to be yours, Jongup, please. I can’t lose any of you. Even if it’s a lie, I need it”

Jongup pressed forward and left a kiss on the corner of Daehyun’s lips, then another on his jaw. Daehyun wrapped his arms around him, hiding the pained scrunch of his face from his broken arm in Jongup’s shoulder.

“You left,” Jongup mumbled. When Daehyun didn’t respond, he brought a hand up to rub at his own face, repeating, “you ran away.” 

Maybe Daehyun should have answered. He didn’t.

It was silent as Jongup covered his face and Daehyun waited, still and patient. When Jongup’s hands dropped, it was to grip tightly onto Daehyun’s shirt and pull him closer. “This is so hard,” he whined. “Dae, why would— how could— there were other ways you could have told us. Why did you have to do it like this? I— I don’t want to live without you for even one day. Seeing you is pretty much the best part of my day, it makes me— I don’t know. I don’t know! I don’t understand this shit and I don’t like this. I don’t like that you made me feel this way. I don’t like that you make me feel this much. Why do I have to feel this much? I’m exhausted.”

Daehyun wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t sure how. 

“I can’t let them kill you,” he whispered softly. “I want you in my life more than I’ve wanted anything before— more than I wanted Dada’s mask even. And— fuck. That’s it then. I won’t let them. You’re mine, I was the one that picked you, so I get to— Do— D-Do you really still… wanna be— wanna be mine? Ours? You meant it?”

“More than anything,” mumbled Daehyun. “That’s— i-it’s the whole reason I came h-here. I’d rather die than stop being your pet. I’d rather die than lose you. I want to be yours. It’s the only thing I want.”

Jongup seemed to straighten slightly, though his head stayed on Daehyun’s shoulder. One of Daehyun’s arms dropped from around him to rest in their laps. “I— you know, um, when they teach us to be Matoki— us being like, five half-siblings from each Matoki— like 5 mini-Dadas, 5 mini-Tats’s, and all— not like— you’re only related to the people in the same class— like if you’re in the Dada class you’re only related to the other Dadas, not to any— it doesn’t matter. Um, all of us— all 25 candidates— they don’t teach us how to— what to do if— we never learn how to be people. They never teach us how to be human.”

“Do people really learn to be human?” Daehyun replied. “I feel like we’re all born like this.”

“M-Maybe but— like, there are things you know— we never learn how to— no, no we  _ unlearn _ — they teach us how to stop being human.” He took Daehyun’s hand in his and started fiddling with Daehyun’s fingers. “How to choke everything down, how to not like— or how to pretend not to like anyone. The less emotions— the less human you are, the higher ranking you get put in. That’s why Youngjae and Junhong were in F— they feel too much— I just— I was just quiet about it. Like an imposter, just bottling everything up. A was taller than me, that’s the only reason I was B. It doesn’t… really matter though… since I killed A for the mask... I’m trying to say— I don’t know how to—” He was getting frustrated.

Daehyun shushed him, careful as he nuzzled into Jongup’s hair. “Just take a deep breath and plan out what you’re trying to say first,” he suggested.

“We watched a bunch of videos last night, before we came to play with you. We wanted— we were trying to make you happy. We wanted you to feel as good as you make— You cried so much, you know? We were just— Himchan was being weird about it, so we were just looking at things about sex but… but in one of the videos the person mentioned once or twice that if you… if you feel a certain way… then you’ll want certain things.” Jongup’s voice got softer and softer.

“Things?” Daehyun prompted. What did Jongup want? Daehyun was already geared up to give it to him.

“If you— you’ll want your partn— ‘the other person’s enjoyment will mean more to you than your own’ is what they— the video said... It’ll all… stop being about what you want from them… and be about what they need for you. Like you feel about us, how you always say you’ll give us anything we ask for, why you seem so happy when we tell you that you did well. It’s because you l— I think you do at least… but then you… came here… I don’t know. When you got up the next morning I watched a bunch of videos by myself about what it means— about what it feels like— about how to know— I don’t know shit about this, Daehyun. They never taught me how to feel like— I don’t know. Maybe I don’t understand. But I think— if I do understand— understand the videos, I mean— I—” He paused, taking a moment to breathe, and then tried again. “I love you.”

Daehyun all at once wanted to scream, cry, kiss Jongup, and dance around. “I love you too,” he said with such eager glee that Jongup looked up at him with a smile, but at the same time, the name ‘Master’ almost ended his statement before he could choke it back. Did it really matter if Jongup loved him? Daehyun had ruined everything, hadn’t he?

From outside they could here the waitress kicking out the few patrons left in the cafe, citing emergency closing hours. They kissed again, letting long stretches of time pass in either silence or liplock until the door opened. 

Both jumped, staring down the trembling, stone-faced intruder with fear.

“You promised me you wouldn’t run away,” Junhong whispered as he shut the door behind him. “You were lying.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Masked ending re-write ch 17 ^^)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism always welcome! Also, if you want to give me any thoughts on the changes or compare the two versions at all, I'd like that ^^ Even if you like the original better, please dont be afraid to tell me!!~

“Master—” Daehyun began, but stopped himself at the way the word made the two boys stiffen, “Junnie, please, it’s not— it’s not that I was— I wasn’t lying it’s just— it’s more complicated than that. A-And I told you exactly where I was—” Zelo let out an aggravated whine, one that would have drawn attention had the waitress not sent the customers away earlier, and slammed the back of his fist into the wall behind him.

“Just— stay in the booth— stay quiet— let me try,” Jongup whispered. “If you get hurt, I’d— the team would be missing a— just stay behind me, be quiet, and let me handle this.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Junhong said suddenly, firmly. His hands balled up into fists at his sides. He was quickly losing the cool he had come in with. “I’m not ready yet. I should go.”

“What do you mean, ‘yet’?” Jongup was quick to ask, “are they planning something? What are they going to do to him? Tell me right now, Z.” He stood, ready to stop Junhong from leaving until he knew what was going on. “You guys can’t kill him. I won’t let you.”

“I don’t want to,” Junhong admitted. “I don’t wanna! Dae, fix it!” He took a step toward Daehyun, but Jongup quickly put himself between them. Junhong withdrew, hitting the nearest wall instead. 

“I won’t let you hurt him!” Jongup repeated.

Zelo let out another frustrated shout. “I don’t want to! I don’t wanna hurt him. Maybe I do. I kind of do, but not enough to make him cry. I don’t know. I kind of want to kill him but I don’t want him to be dead after. Or bleeding. Or hurt. What does that even mean? I don’t know anymore! I just don’t want to let him be dead. I don’t want to exist without him. Everything… sucks. This whole world sucks. I kind of want to kill everyone” 

“Z—” Jongup tried. “What are you even saying?”

“I don’t know! My chest hurts and it’s his fault and I really want to kill someone— but not him— but also yes him— but he’d be upset with me if I killed him. You’d be angry, right? Or… well, actually you’d be dead… fuck. What am I even saying? Every time I think about him being punished or hurting him, I— it’s like getting stabbed— it’s like how I was with Jae after I won… Like I told the Matoki then, I don’t think… it’s safe for me to be without him. If I had to kill him, I’d...” Junhong’s voice was getting smaller and smaller, until it was barely there at all. After he went silent he punched the wall in frustration.

“No one is saying you have to— you don’t have to kill him,” Jongup tried. He rubbed at the back of his neck, growing more agitated the longer they stayed on the topic. “We can— There’s still a chance the others will— Maybe Youngjae won’t want to— a-and maybe if the three of us— we could convince the two of them— I don’t want that, either, Zelo— Junnie— Junhong. I-I can’t— really can’t— so— I don’t wanna think about this, it makes me feel so— No one is saying you have to—” 

Junhong cut off Jongup’s attempts at coherent speech. “Th-they said I had to, that I was probably the only one who could — but I can’t.” 

“You can’t?” Jongup asked, hopeful.

Junhong gulped, looked down, and scuffed his shoes against the dark wood floors. “I can’t kill him.” The words were whispered like a blasphemous sin— like Junhong were admitting a sacrilege secret that might end his life. He slammed his hands into his face again, trying to rev back up anger in place of less volatile emotions. “Are you happy about that, Daehyun? Are you happy that you ruined me?” He stepped forward again, almost a lunge at Daehyun, who sat frozen still behind Jongup as he tried to determine the best means to diffuse the situation. He wouldn’t disobey Jongup until he really, really had to. He just wanted to be a good pet again.

Jongup stopped Junhong with a hand on his chest, and pressed him into the wall without any real force, a noncommittal precaution. “He ruined me too,” Jongup admitted in a whisper.

“That’s not possible. You’re not… like me.” There was a sort unfamiliar discomfort between them, that of two brothers that had spent the last years in sync now losing their rhythm. “You’re not like Youngjae and I.”

Jongup needed a couple moments to collect himself, to build up confidence. He turned his head back to Daehyun briefly, who was watching but resigned to let them try to work it out on their own. They shared a moment when their eyes locked, one of fear and hope, then Jongup’s eyes dropped to the floor by Daehyun’s feet before he turned to face Junhong again. He took a deep breath. “I love him.”

Junhong blinked rapidly, his eyebrows coming into a tight furrow as he tried to understand what Jongup had said. “What does that mean?” He wasn’t asking for a definition, all three knew that.

“I don’t know. I’m hoping he’ll be around to teach me,” Jongup replied. He cleared his voice, stepped back, closer to Daehyun, who in turn pressed the top of his head into Jongup’s arm and played with his fingers. “I guess mostly it means that he ruined me too.”

“You were in B,” Junhong protested.

“That… It doesn’t mean… That doesn’t mean that I don’t feel things too, Junnie,” Jongup whispered. “It just means I was better at hiding it. That I didn’t have asthma. That I was the second tallest boy when all the Moon-children were five years old and Dad needed to rank us. It doesn’t mean… I’m still a person.”

“I thought we weren’t supposed to be people. We aren’t supposed to be human,” Junhong argued.

“Didn’t they kill our Dads for not being people?” Jongup replied. “I’ve been— I’ve been thinking about this a lot, Z. Wasn’t that the whole thing— our fights went before the others had even finished their trials just because they wanted to end the not-people as soon as possible, because not being human was that bad. Not being human meant dying. Wasn’t that why Yongguk said he wanted you to win before the Choi-children all fought for the Toto mask? Because he saw you with Youngjae and thought your humanity was good?”

“Toto put me in F.” This time when Junhong stepped forward, Jongup didn’t push him back. He was standing closer, close enough to reach out if he wanted, but he didn’t. He had shoved his hands in his pockets, balled into fists, to keep himself from using them.

“And then they gave you the Toto mask— Seriously, since I realized what he did to me I’ve been thinking— even before I had a name for it— and maybe Toto isn’t human— maybe we aren’t supposed to be human then, but you aren’t your mask. Isn’t that what gen 4 and gen 5 always tell us? When you think about— they’re human now, aren’t they? The survivors— I— What I’m trying to say is— I think we’re supposed to be human sometimes, and I’ve been feeling things a lot lately, just like you. Just— so many things— feeling things feels awful and— yeah. He ruined me too, but I think it’s a good thing. I think he’s supposed to ruin us— just like the older generations became human, but easier— that’s what his job is, probably. So he’s probably pretty good at his job and— and we probably should’ve listened to him. I don’t— Maybe I’m wrong. I’m not going to pretend I know anything but— the people that were allowed to live were human, right? I’ve been thinking about this— about  _ Dad _ — about you dying and Daehyun dying and— and maybe me dying… I don’t want any of us to— I won’t let any of you kill him. I can’t handle that.” 

“And you think I could? I don’t wanna kill him!” Junhong protested. “I don’t wanna punish him, even. H-haven’t I done it enough? Toto made me hurt the people I c— Youngjae and the rest of F and then... I had to watch all of them, during the final fights… I know they said I could keep him even if he lost but if Jae hadn’t blown up the other candidates before his, I would’ve lost it. If anyone had hurt him, I would’ve killed them. And they made me— they made us kill... they were our family Jongup! But we had to kill them… not Daehyun too. I won’t kill him too. It’s not fair! He’s not a pest and— I’m— I need him.” He was shaking. After a moment, a distressed whimper came. “Make it stop. Dae, please, make it stop.”

Jongup went silent, looking back to Daehyun for help. “I tried, but he’s upset again,” he whispered. “I don’t know what to— D-Do you know how to— without getting hurt— I wouldn’t— if you hadn’t been so good at it before— I don’t want you to— don’t get hurt.”

Daehyun stood and squeezed Jongup’s hand. “I can handle it,” he promised.

“Don’t touch me, I’ll hurt you!” Junhong warned in a hiss. “I shouldn’t’ve come here yet. I’m not ready to be near you yet. There’s still a chance I’ll lose it so just— just stay back. Just fix me from over there. Don’t come near me, I’ll only ever be able to break you.”

“Do you want to?” Daehyun took a step back as he waited for the answer. “You know you don’t have to hit me if you don’t want to, Junnie. You know I can make it better with no violence at all. Do you wanna hurt me?”

“I don’t know,” the response was a little unsettling. Junhong leaned up against the wall and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, then threaded his fingers through his hair and pulled roughly. “I don’t know anymore,” he admitted, broken. “I just want you to be in your room where you’re supposed to be and for this to have not happened and for you to not be Keke or leave me ever. I— I tried not to have any more people like them but you ruined it— I wasn’t supposed to be weak again but you— you… ruined it. Guess… I’m back to being that... the F brat with no shot, huh?”

“Junhong, you already won,” Jongup reminded. “You don’t need a shot anymore, you were the winner. You passed all the tests, all the trials, and then you—”

“Then I killed all my siblings and my father, when they let me. Just like you did,” Junhong replied. “I wasn’t the best Toto, I wasn’t even supposed to win, I was just the quickest murderer. Does that make me a winner? Does it really change that I’m still that F brat who feels too much? That I made them promise to keep Youngjae alive even if he lost, otherwise I’d off myself and leave them Toto-less? Who thought I was the right fit for this? Why did Yongguk even say he wants me when it’s clear that— that I’m too weak for this. I’m not strong enough for this. I can’t even kill him, isn’t that the one thing I’m supposed to be able to do?” He was sobbing, his voice barely there.

Daehyun ran to him and pulled him into a tight hug. He was slammed into the wall roughly, hissing at the pain that shot up his back, but still he hung on. Slowly, Junhong hugged back.

Jongup had gone silent. Once the two of them were still, he sat down with his head in his hands.

“I don’t want you to die,” Junhong whimpered into Daehyun’s ear, holding him tighter. “Can you— I know you can’t really promise because it’s Yongguk’s choice but… but could we pretend for a bit? Can we pretend that you still wanna be with me?”

“I do still wanna be with you,” Daehyun insisted. “That isn’t pretend, Junnie. I want to be your pet, that’s why I’m here. I ran away—” Junhong let out a frustrated whine. “—because I’d rather… No, no let’s not say it like that. I wanna be with you more than anything else in the world. I’d give up on everything so long as I get to be with you. I promise, Junnie, I promise I want to be yours. I promise I never want to leave you. I want to be by your side forever.”

Junhong nuzzled into the crook of Daehyun’s neck and his body slumped, slowly relaxing.

“You really…” Jongup mumbled. “He really makes you calm, doesn’t he? It reminds me of after you won…”

“How?” Junhong asked quietly.

“They thought you’d be so pumped up when you left the arena that you would kill whoever was closest to the door, like gen 5 Toto did when he won. All of us Dada candidates were told to stand close by, ready to stop you, but Youngjae came to stand with us. I remember A turned to me to say something like ‘what does this F brat think he’s doing? Jokos aren’t nearly as trained in hand-to-hand’ but… I mean I know Youngjae doesn’t fix you completely, but you were so much more stable when you saw him and...” Jongup trailed off, his eyes having gone wide. He drummed his fingers against the table.

“And?” Junhong prompted.

“I’m turning my com back on for a moment,” answered Jongup. 

They went silent.

“Yeah, it’s me… You know I wouldn’t… Oh, thank god.” Jongup paused, speaking to the two of them instead of whoever was on the com line. “Youngjae says he doesn’t want to kill Daehyun either.”

“Tell him I say thank you,” Daehyun requested in a whisper.

“He’s grateful. Is it just you right now? We’re the only two on the line?” A pause. “Well, that’s not a good sign, but I have an idea… No, not running away, I know that’s pointless… I just— I need to ask you something… Could you just listen for a moment? Jae, calm down.”

“Is he still crying?” Junhong asked softly. His nails dug into Daehyun’s sides as he asked, nearly drawing blood after Jongup nodded. Daehyun whimpered and Junhong let up.

“I’m not sure if— we’ve all agreed Junhong’s memory of training and the trials is… spotty sometimes, so I need to— I was wondering if you remembered something. I know you blacked out for most of the competition, but do you remember the final fight for the Toto mask? You guys had just finished your tests, the trials were about to start for you, but the Dada and Toto classes had already finished. You guys had a two day break to watch our final fights, right? Okay, good. Something happened, before or after Junhong won, I don’t remember, and they said you could live, even if you failed your trials or lost your fight. What was that?” A long pause.

Junhong’s arms tightened around Daehyun again, and Daehyun shushed him. “It’s alright, Junnie. Youngjae is just fine. No one is going to hurt him.”

Jongup spoke over Daehyun’s placating words. “So you said that before he went in and he calmed down? And then after—” Another pause. “That was after he won, right? I remember that, I thought from the way he attacked his Dad that he would come out and kill a couple more of us just from the aggression but—” A short pause. “I remember you stopping him and kissing him, I didn’t realize you had promised before he went in… Did they say that before or after Junhong said he’d kill hims— oh… really, that’s not what he— so that was after you blew up the Joko dorms— oh. So they initially agreed just because you kept him from killing everyone?  _ Oh… _ yeah, he’s here. Daehyun’s  _ calming him down _ … Exactly. Talk to you soon… What? No, he’s fine. Junhong didn’t hurt him… No, no blood... Okay, see you soon.”

“Youngjae’s coming?” Daehyun asked.

“He had only stayed away because he was worried Junhong or I might’ve hurt you. He said that as much as he likes watching you get hurt while you’re enjoying it, he couldn’t handle seeing you if we had… He’s in the same boat as Junhong and I,” replied Jongup. His voice had gained a bit of confidence, and when Daehyun peeked over at him he found Jongup was smiling.

“Why were you asking about my fight?” Junhong asked. He let Jongup pull Daehyun away from him, even if he pouted.

Daehyun found himself pulled down onto Jongup’s lap, and Jongup held him tightly around the middle. “You may Junhong a lot calmer, don’t you, pet?” Jongup’s compliment made Daehyun beam, all three of them so happy to hear him being called ‘pet’ again. “Junhong, you mentioned it before but— they were going to let Youngjae live, weren’t they? Even if he failed his trials. Even if he didn’t qualify to be Joko, they weren’t going to kill him. Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Yeah, but… after I won… the rest of the Choi bloodline is dead so… you’re stuck with me… and they wanted some insurance that I’d be stable, or at least more stable than my Dad was,” Junhong justified. It took a moment of lightly pushing on Jongup’s side before he slid down the booth seat so Junhong could sit next to them. He put his head on Daehyun’s shoulder and let out a shaky breath.

“And Youngjae made you more stable?” Jongup replied with a smile. “Before the fight you went from anxious and violent to calm with a promise from him of a kiss, right? That wasn’t just because you were 15 and had a crush, right? After you won, it was all it took to get you not to kill the rest of us. Even if you’re still unstable, even if you still throw fits and break things and kill all the people in the compound when you can’t handle it anymore, Youngjae keeps you just stable enough that you can keep doing your job— that you don’t put the other members of our team in danger. So they couldn’t kill him.”

“What does it really matter?” Junhong replied. “He passed all his trials and then blew up the other Yoo candidates the night before their fight. That… deal I made… about what would happen to him if he didn’t win… It’s awkward to think of him that way now that he’s Joko.”

“No, Junhong, listen. They couldn’t kill Youngjae even if the rules said to because he made you more stable, right? Would you say that Daehyun makes you feel more stable?” Jongup asked. “Because if gen 5 was willing to break the rules just to keep you from turning into an uncontrollable killer, then…”

“Oh!” Junhong exclaimed. “So… so Daehyun doesn’t have to…? I don’t have to…?”

“Maybe not,” Jongup agreed. “We’ll see. I don’t— I think Youngjae will have a better grip on what to do than we do and— I don’t know. He said Channie was being weirdly strict and Yongguk had gone quiet before they both left to ‘think on their own’.”

“Do we really have to do whatever Yongguk decides?” Junhong asked quietly. “What if he decides wrong?”

No one answered the question. Rather, both boys snuggled further into Daehyun, held onto him tighter, and he in turn tried to calm them down by promising them again and again that he still wanted to be with them, that they could indeed find a way out of the situation they were in, and most of all, that it was simultaneously all and none of their faults, so no one person should blame themselves for it.

The waitress beat Youngjae into the room, bring enough drinks for four and apologizing for not knowing what to bring Daehyun, though the hot chocolate she brought him was welcomed. “Yoo called to say he’d be here soon. Are Kim and my cousin coming too?”

“We don’t know yet,” Jongup replied. “It’d be best to wait until they’re here before making the two of them anything.” She took a brief note of the walls, making sure Junhong’s banging on them earlier hadn’t caused any holes, and then she was out again. 

Youngjae came in not long after she left. His eyes were red and puffy even if he had stopped crying. His hands were still shaking a bit and he didn’t dare farther than the doorway before he stopped, eyes fixed on Daehyun. He started chewing on his fingernail.

Jongup’s arms tightened around Daehyun’s waist when he tried to get up and rush out of the booth. Beside them, Junhong had begun to vibrate with upset, muttering to himself that Youngjae wasn’t alright, that he was upset, quietly trying to process the situation as if he knew Jongup might revoke the privilege of being close to Daehyun if he lost his cool again. Daehyun reached over to pet his hair, soothing him until he was stiller.

“Dae,” Youngjae breathed, his tone soft and hurt, but the look in his eyes was hopeful. “Come here,” he requested.

Jongup wouldn’t let go of him. “Promise you won’t hurt him first,” demanded Jongup.

“You know I—” The three words were so stuttered that each took nearly ten seconds to say. Jongup’s demand had affronted Youngjae so much that he couldn’t handle it— couldn’t process it properly— and as a result he couldn’t find a proper way to speak. Junhong was growing more irritable again.

“Let go of me,” Daehyun insisted firmly.

“Dae—” Jongup requested.

“No. No, this is… this is my job, Jongup, and if I’m going to be a pet again, then you have to let me do it. I know you’re scared I’ll get hurt. Trust me, I’m scared too. I don’t want to die; I want to stay with you guys forever, but that’s definitely not going to be a possibility if you can’t trust me to know how to handle all of you. He’s not going to hurt me, I promise you. Just trust me to know what I’m doing, please. Listen to me, that’s all I’m asking for.”

Jongup frowned, but he let go. “Be careful,” he whispered, “and if he hurts you, call out and I’ll save you. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t,” Daehyun promised, even though he had no way of knowing what was coming next. He found his way out of the booth, and then came to fill Youngjae’s arms and pull his head to his shoulder. Youngjae let out a very soft sob and balled his hands up in Daehyun’s shirt. “Y-Y-You—” Youngjae couldn’t get the words out.

“I left,” Daehyun tried to fill in. Junhong’s hand banged against the table, causing the hot drinks to spill, but there was little reaction outside of that.

“No,” Youngjae whispered, still stammering. “I mean, yes, but I don’t care. You left because… because we suck. We were being dumb. We should’ve— You’re… a person. When we try to make you not be a person… you cry and… and we turn into dumbasses… then you run away. I just… I’m really… glad these two didn’t kill you and… I don’t want you to… to d— … yeah.” It took him full minutes to choke the words out. Each word was a struggle but he was refusing to cry.

Daehyun hummed and rocked them. “It’s alright, Jae. I’m alright. You’re alright. Junhong’s alright. Jongup’s alright. Things are— Things are really scary right now. We’re all scared.”

“Probably not all, but the both of us are, at least,” mumbled Youngjae. Before Daehyun could disagree, he continued in a faint whisper, “I wish I wasn’t like this. I wish I wasn’t weak like this. What must they all think of me? I didn’t even make it two minutes before I started crying again.” He sniffled.

“Well, I think you’re pretty great,” Daehyun replied. He pet Youngjae’s back gently, and twisted his head back to peer at the other two before continuing on, “and I don’t think you’re weak, either. This isn’t easy on any of us; we’re all having a hard time. It’s… a bad situation.”

Youngjae looked up at the other two too, over Daehyun’s shoulder— it was easier for him. “I’m sorry you guys got stuck with me instead of a real Matoki,” he admitted before hiding is face in Daehyun’s shoulder. He cursed at and berated himself softly for admitting it. “I should’ve just tapped out and agreed to be Junnie’s instead of insisting on fighting. I should’ve just let myself lose instead of blowing everyone up but, fuck— I hate losing. They deserve better than me faking— pretending like I’m like them.” 

Daehyun, again, shot a pointed look back at the two boys in the booth. This time they seemed to catch on.

“What are you talking about?” Jongup asked. “You are a real Matoki. Blowing up all the other candidates for Joko was the most Joko thing anyone has ever done, especially with those cool-ass bots you built for it.” He was trying. Daehyun was thankful.

“You also had the highest test scores and the best trial results,” Junhong agreed. “Everyone knew you were only in F because— it’s just ‘cause of the—”

“They aren’t even that bad!” Jongup tried, his voice going high. “I mean— the only time it’s happened since you won was— and I mean that— we were all really— it made sense in the— and it didn’t interfere— it wasn’t— it doesn’t really matter, you were only put in F ‘cause—”

“Because I’m human,” Youngjae cut him off sharply, “because I feel too much and I get upset too easily. Because when I can’t handle pretending to be a Matoki anymore I black out, which just shows how much I’m not cut out for this. It doesn’t matter if I’m still functional or not, it happens because I’m too weak to belong to the Matoki. I can’t even claim self-preservation after what Junnie did…” Both boys in the booth tried to correct him, but Youngjae spoke over them. “Don’t pretend like you two weren’t the ones that reminded me with that call. If I had just agreed to be your pet, Junnie, we would have avoided all of this.”

“You were—?” Daehyun started.

“I told you, I’m human,” Youngjae lamented bitterly. “Humans aren’t meant to become Matoki, just pets, pests, or dead.”

“I—” Jongup paused, unsure of what to say. “Youngjae, I think that I’m— I mean— I definitely feel— I was saying before that— I mean our dads— and the survivors were all— I don’t think that— no, wait— I think that— I mean, I’ve been thinking a lot and— me too— also me— Humans love and— I love Daehyun. That’s human, isn’t it? I mean— I mean it. Just— Just like you and Daehyun, I feel... stuff… a lot. I feel things too. And— And if I were just…. just Dada, I wouldn’t feel anything, would I? So— I’m just saying— I’m human, too, I think. I’m probably a person, too. It’s— It’s like I was saying… before… to Z, I think… we’re supposed to be people. It’s like they always say, we aren’t our masks.” He looked to Junhong for help.

“They killed our Dads for not being people, remember?” Junhong said. “I mean, Jongup and I killed our Dads, but we were told to do it because they weren’t people. They couldn’t… human correctly, right?”

“Exactly,” Daehyun picked up warmly, letting the two confused boys rest. After all the time that had passed, he felt like he finally understood their system in a way he hadn’t before. He took a deep breath, choking down the emotions crawling out his throat. “If the Matoki are killing anyone that isn’t human enough at the end of their run, doesn’t that mean you should be human? Maybe not when the masks on, but when it’s off, you’re all allowed to feel things. It’s not bad to feel things, and it’s not bad to cry if you’re feeling a lot. I don’t think any of them think less of you for it. I’ve only ever heard them call you strong for being able to face it in a way that they can’t.”

Youngjae clung to him, but he was calming down slowly. “You two wanna weigh in on that?” He asked, almost jokingly, but they could hear the fear in his tone.

“I think— probably— it would probably... suck significantly less— if I didn’t— if I could feel things… like you.” Jongup admitted. “I mean— fuck, I can’t even form a full sentence the moment we talk about emotions but— but I still, like, feel shit and— well— it fucking sucks when— I mean I can’t even tell what it is half the time and— and it’s like I’m a fucking kindergartener or some shit! I tried to find— um… I was… since we found out about aftercare online, I… tried to figure out emotions online too and— and everything I found was for five year olds. I’m jealous that five year olds are better at this than I am and I’m jealous that you are too. I wish I could just… feel everything… upfront… without all this bullshit. Not to sound like a five year old, but if I knew how to feel my feelings like you… that would be good. Better. What I’m doing right now isn’t working.”

“What are you doing right now?” Youngjae asked.

“Trying not to feel anything and failing?” Jongup guessed. “Fuck if I have any clue. My head hurts just… just trying to think about this for more than a second or two. Whatever, yes, if you’re weak then I’m weaker… I guess.”

“Junnie?” Daehyun prompted when they were only met with silence.

“I already feel shit all the time,” Junhong grumbled. “I just wish I knew how to— not just for me, but for you two too— how to make it better without hurting anyone. I don’t… I don’t like being out of control. At least when you black out, you aren’t suddenly a giant threat to everyone. A-And when Dae cries… it sucks but no one’s  _ dead _ . I just want to be able to control myself. Maybe to be able to help because— because it upsets me when you’re upset because I don’t know what to do to make it stop! And then I get more upset because I’m upset and I’m not supposed to be! I don’t… wanna… be like this… I don’t wanna be unstable… I just wanna feel… okay most of the time. Some of the time. Just every once in awhile, even.”

“Same,” Youngjae mumbled.

“Same,” Jongup agreed.

“Daehyun… helps, doesn’t he?” Youngjae reminded softly. “And… if he helps then… then we can’t let them kill him. It’s going to be an argument, maybe a fight, I don’t know. But, he’s worth it, isn’t he?” Daehyun smiled when they agreed. Youngjae continued, “we’ll have to think about the best arguments we can make, I’m not sure they’ll see it our way if we just… Neither of them really feels anything, do they? They’re… you know... Real Matoki. And… they were both being so strict about the rules when I fought them about it before. I don’t get it. Isn’t Daehyun— Aren’t we more important than the rules?”

“Before… before we keep talking— I know this is important, but— Can… Jae, can I— I feel really— things… when Daehyun’s too far… like the door might open and… I need him to— I need him over here where— not to say you couldn’t but— where I can keep him safe...” Jongup mumbled, unsure. When their hug broke apart, the two boys in the doorway found his face was red.

“But, I need him,” Youngjae started. He opened his mouth to say more, but Junhong’s stammering cut him off.

“U-Um— actually— maybe— I thought maybe… we could— there are four of us and— so even pairs— we were, um, talking about it— I mean about the past— and when we were younger and—” he gulped roughly, placing his head on the table. “Daehyun, help.” 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say, Junnie,” he murmured back.

“Me and Jae could— and then you could… with Jongup... and then Jongup would also feel better like— I wanna learn to… I wanna make things suck less too… um… I just thought… maybe it would be… um, nice, I guess… that I’d be happy if… and it would also help me, right? If I knew what to do... if I knew how to make Jae feel… okay… like you do… so maybe…  _ fuck _ what am I saying?” He just about slammed his own head on the table, but Jongup stopped him from doing it with tightly drawn lips.

“Are you saying you want to learn how to make Youngjae feel better when he’s upset like I do?” Daehyun asked. Junhong was so embarrassed that his face had turned pink, and he covered his eyes as he nodded. “So, why don’t you sit with Youngjae while I sit with Jongup, and I can help you through making each other feel better?” Daehyun asked. 

Junhong’s response was still stammered, “that’s what I meant. Jae, would that be...?”

“I’d like that, Junnie,” Youngjae smiled. He pressed a kiss to Daehyun’s forehead before he fully let him go, and tried to hide the way he kissed Junhong’s cheek once they were on the other side of the booth together, although Junhong’s bug eyes drew quick attention to what had happened.

Once they were set, Jongup continued, “I don’t know why Channie was so strict… Guk I get, he never breaks the rules even when he doesn’t like them but… I thought… I guess I assumed Channie felt the same way towards you that we do, or that he’d at least be able to understand… Then again, he hates affection. I don’t think he ever really feels anything, either, just like Yongguk… The two of them are the only ones who are perfectly Matoki-esque.”

“So we get ready to fight, then,” Youngjae agreed, unhappy. “Humans versus Matoki. We’ll try words first and— worse comes to worse—” He couldn’t finish.

“Worse comes to worse, it’s three against two,” Junhong filled in for him in an unhappy tone.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Masked ending re-write ch 18 ^^)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the official last chapter of Masked!! I am planning on probably writing an epilogue or two before it's done and over for good, but I'm not sure they will be coming that soon?? We'll see ^^ Thank you so much for reading this far and for putting up with the rewrite!~ 
> 
>  
> 
> Constructive criticism always welcome! Also, if you want to give me any thoughts on the changes or compare the two versions at all, I'd like that ^^ Even if you like the original better, please dont be afraid to tell me!!~

They had told the waitress to reopen the cafe once two hours had passed without word from the others. Youngjae had left his com on, listening in on the silent air of which he was the sole occupant for any word from the others, hopefully good news, but for a long time there was none.

The cafe had since filled with the smells of coffee and baked goods and the waitress came in once every hour and a half to refill their mugs and pass them sweets. “My cousin called,” she had told them about three hours after Youngjae had come, “he wanted to know who was here. I hope it’s alright that I told him.”

“It’s fine, Seunghee,” Youngjae replied, his voice having a funny mixture of terror and hope. “Did he say anything else?”

She shifted awkwardly and took a step back, as if she intended to leave instead of answering. Jongup caught her wrist, standing as he pulled her forward so they were chest to chest, and glared down his narrow nose at her. “Answer,” he demanded.

“He wanted to know if there was any damage or… loss of patrons since you all started arriving. He asked a couple questions about Choi’s state of mind as best I could gather it, if I had heard any… disturbing noises, and if… um… if your friend had been particularly loud at any point so far. I replied this seemed well, more or less, that none of you seemed happy but… that it hadn’t manifested on your friend in any way. ‘There’s nothing red in the room.’ I’m supposed to call him if Kim arrives.”

“If he calls again, tell us,” said Jongup, “also you can call him Hyunnie.” He gestured to Daehyun, who at the time had been fighting back yawns.

Daehyun had since fallen asleep on Jongup’s shoulder, and Junhong had followed suit, his head on top of Youngjae’s. Youngjae had taken up the habit of chewing on his short fingernails whenever there wasn’t food in front of him and Jongup had gone stiff and still as he waited. Every couple of minutes he would ask Youngjae if anyone had turned on their coms yet, and was always met with an unfortunate ‘no’.

The two had walked through the plan for when the others came in repeatedly: checking for weapons first, the arguments they’d make once they were sure everyone was disarmed, how to both fight and protect Daehyun if it turned out that way, and what to do to prevent a fight. “I don’t want to fight them,” Youngjae had whispered. “I know… considering you and Junhong are the main fighters… that we’d win but… but what kind of victory is that? What if… this is what ends the Matoki, Jongup? Something our ancestors have been building for six generations, and we just let it implode over…” He didn’t want to finish.

“We’ll do everything we can to prevent that,” Jongup assured. “Especially, I don’t know, I think our argument is pretty sound. All three of us would… you know... lose it without him and we haven’t even started having candidates yet so we’re irreplaceable, right?”

“I’m still… not feeling so good about this,” replied Youngjae, his voice soft. “It feels like we’re doing everything we were raised not to do. ‘The Matoki are Gods, Shishi is the God of the Matoki’ and all that, you know? But maybe… Maybe if he sees Daehyun, he’ll change his mind? Yesterday he couldn’t even beat Daehyun properly for disobeying. He wasn’t hitting as hard as he could and he didn’t even do a quarter of what he was meant to before just… giving up, I guess? He made up that whole solitary confinement thing to avoid doing what the punishment is supposed to be... And they were saying Junnie was the only one who was capable of killing Daehyun so… so maybe…”

“I don’t know,” Jongup replied in a whisper. “I really don’t know what’s going to happen.”

It was midday, whereas Youngjae had come in around 3 am, when there was finally any news. Junhong had since woken up, though Daehyun remained unconscious, and Youngjae had started yawning and scrunching his eyes like a cat about an hour beforehand, clinging to the last remnants of wakefulness for as long as he could after having been awake so long. He had traded com-monitoring duty with Jongup when it had gotten hard to keep his eyes open, and had since completely passed out, first with his head against the back of the booth, though later Junhong had moved it to his own shoulder with a nervous look to Jongup.

“How many rats are left downstairs?” Jongup asked vaguely, though Junhong caught his meaning. “I’ve been wondering if you killed all of them last night.”

Junhong shook his head, moving enough to nearly knock Youngjae off his shoulder, “I didn’t go down there after… I figured… pest control was better left for another time…” Jongup raised his eyebrows, a silent question that was never asked and never answered.

Not that there was time for either as the door opened, and instead of the expected waitress in the doorway, there was Himchan. The tip of his nose and his cheeks were red as if he just been outside, his breathing a little harsh, and his hands a bit shaky. He was wearing one of the suits he normally wore to the police station when he was going there to pretend to be an advisor. He stopped, just a foot in from the doorway, and shut it behind him. “Is he…?” His voice was barely there as he focused on Daehyun.

“Sleeping,” Jongup replied. He nudged Daehyun awake, while Junhong begrudgingly did the same to Youngjae, before fixing his eyes back on Himchan. “You’re going to have to let Junhong check you for weapons and promise not to hurt Dae before we’ll be willing to talk to you.”

“I’m not here to talk,” Himchan replied. Still, he held his arms out and let Junhong check him briefly, finding nothing on him.

“Then what are you here for?” Youngjae asked. He tried to sound sharp, but he was very clearly still half-asleep. He shot a very tired glare in Himchan’s direction. Daehyun had already dug his face back in Jongup’s shoulder, not ready to be awake even if the situation was developing quickly. 

“I want something from Daehyun.” The others missed it. They missed the way Himchan shifted from one foot to the other, the extra reddening of his cheeks outside that of the cold, and the way his expression changed to something much less sure.

“What?” Youngjae prompted.

“Something.” Himchan said again. “He’s let me have it before, it’s no big deal. I’ll just take him for a couple minutes and bring him back, I swear.” He raised his hand. He gulped hard. Finally, Daehyun looked up at him and recognized it all.

“Oh, he needs—” Daehyun stopped himself at the panic in Himchan’s eyes. “It’s okay,” he whispered to Jongup.

“It’s not okay until he tells me what it is. And— and you can’t leave with him, Channie. He’s staying in here where I can make sure he’s— where I can make sure you don’t— I won’t let him get hurt. Whatever you need, he’ll have to give it to you here.”

Youngjae yawned. “Just tell us what it is and we’ll let you. Daehyunnie said it’s fine and I trust him to know but…”

It was silent. Junhong sat back with Youngjae and looked to Himchan, but still no response came. He looked at them filled with complete terror. He shoved his hands in his pockets and twisted up his mouth as he turned away from them a bit. His hands were only in his pockets for a moment before he was rubbing at his face, the nape of his neck, and disheveling his hair with one of them. 

He looked over to them, as if looking to Daehyun for help, but Jongup motioned for him to be quiet. He and Youngjae were both distrustful of the way Himchan couldn’t hold eye contact with them. It was silent for minutes without anyone saying a word, but when Himchan spoke again his voice was raspy and quiet, wavering and barely there. “I need h-him to… I need… I-I’m… a fraud. I’m weak,” he gulped, looking down at his shoes. “I need a hug.” He looked like he was about to puke.

“Oh,” Youngjae said, pleasantly surprised and more relaxed. 

“Just promise you won’t hurt him,” Jongup insisted, but he had become a lot softer, especially as Daehyun had whispered confirmation that he knew that was what Himchan was trying to ask for, though he didn’t tell them how many times it had happened in the past.

“I couldn’t,” replied Himchan. His arms wrapped around his stomach, and he still looked like he was about to throw up. “I don’t think I can even stand seeing him be hurt right now.”

With a confirmation that it was okay for him to go, Daehyun pecked Jongup’s cheek before he stepped over him, shooting a look back at the three of them very similar to the ones he had given Jongup and Junhong while he had been comforting Youngjae. “You don’t need to worry,” Daehyun promised, voice still laden with sleep, as he wrapped his arms around Himchan’s shoulders. “They… They needed this too. There’s nothing wrong with it. When Youngjae came in, we even talked about how it might be a good thing.” He pressed a short peck to Himchan’s jaw and laid his head down on his shoulder.

Himchan went stiff, unsure, and didn’t hug Daehyun back. 

“So he’s just like us then?” They could hear Junhong whisper to the other two. “Or at least, he’s like us as long as it’s about physical affection, right? Does that mean…? Maybe…? I mean if it’s four against one and all of us need him then maybe Yongguk will…” There was an excited stir amongst the three at the table, though Jongup would not take his eyes off Daehyun for a second, still anxious.

“Junnie needed a hug when he came in too,” Daehyun whispered to Himchan. “He needed a couple minutes to calm down first, but he definitely needed a hug too. Youngjae pretty much instantly asked for one. Both of them have needed them before too, remember? Youngjae needs affection when he’s coming down and Junhong needs them whenever he gets upset. Jongup didn’t say, but we definitely did hug a lot when he came in, and pretty much constantly since then. You’re not alone on this, Channie.”

Cautiously, slowly, Himchan gripped onto his hips. From there it was barely a moment before he had his arms wrapped tightly around Daehyun’s middle and his cold face pressed into Daehyun’s neck. He was shaking, and rocked naturally before Daehyun could even think to start swaying their bodies back and forth. Youngjae was the one to call out, “Chan, you know, we all… the three of us… we all also like hugs and stuff. Right, Junnie?”

“If I hug Daehyun then I… dispose of less… pests that I’m not supposed to… deal with yet… so um… not just  _ like _ , um, I think… I kinda  _ need _ it sometimes. It’s… nice. It makes me… feel… less… bad…  _ fuck _ . What am I even saying? I don’t like today. Jongup?” Junhong struggled to say.

Jongup hummed, needing the question repeated before he could answer. “Honestly, I’m kinda— a-and I’m not saying you have to stop— we all got to— it’s not a problem but— kinda… not happy that I’m not hugging him right now… you know? Um— you can— it’s okay if— if Dae doesn’t— if he makes it, then I’m still going to share but— right now it’s just— it’s not as easy as it usually is. I-I can… wait though.”

“I don’t think I can lose him,” Himchan admitted in soft and terrified tone, as if he still believed they would mock him.

“Me neither,” said the other three, more or less in a chorus.

The door opened. All five of them jumped. Himchan stepped away from Daehyun quickly. His face was red. Seunghee came in with a chair, a tray balanced on the seat. “My cousin says he’s coming now that Kim is here,” she told them. “I was told to bring this in here and get everyone refreshments, more of the same?”

“Yeah,” replied Youngjae. “Did he say anything else? Did he tell you to clear out the cafe?”

“He wanted to know if Hyunnie still seemed alright, if there had been any developments for the worse since he last called, and told me I should continue on with business as usual, but claim the other private rooms were occupied to make sure your conversation would be harder to overhear,” she reported. 

They sent her away after that. “Daehyun, inside of the booth, now,” ordered Jongup.

“But I still need him,” replied Himchan.

The two didn’t have time to argue before Daehyun spoke over them. “Channie, get on the inside of the booth and I’ll sit on your lap, then Jongup can sit on the outside. Does that work for both of you?” Once it was settled and they had settled in, Daehyun finally voiced what was going on in his head. “What if Yongguk doesn’t wanna keep me?” Himchan leaned around him to press a reassuring kiss to his cheek. He still seemed quite nervous about affection, but relaxed quite a bit when Jongup mimicked the action without hesitation once he had pulled away.

“Try not to worry too much, Daehyunnie,” Youngjae placated. “Junhong needs you to stay sane, probably Jongup would go off the rails without you too, and I’m pretty sure I’d go into permanent blackout like gen 2 Joko did. That’s reason enough, he’s too smart to not listen to us then.” He reached over the table to take one of Daehyun’s hands in his, and gave it a soft reassuring squeeze. 

Daehyun protested, “but—”

Himchan cut him off. “I think he’ll listen to us. This is the whole reason we picked him. He was the only Shishi that was focused on working with us instead of having us as minions. Even if he’s a real… you know… and he doesn’t have any feelings at all, he still always tries to keep us steady.” He pulled Daehyun back to rest with his back against his chest, so close he could feel his heartbeat pounding.

Youngjae spotted Daehyun’s confused expression and continued in a whisper, “his trials came after the rest of the team was decided. Basically, the Shishi candidates have to lead a series of fake missions with us, then we eliminate anyone we don’t like. We can run as many as we need to decide, until there’s only one Shishi candidate left. Yongguk was the only one who… even tried, you know? The others tried to micromanage everything we did, especially Junnie and I because we were from F. The A Shishi called Himchan a default for being the only candidate to pass his trials, the B Shishi called me a dirty cheat, the C Shishi implied all Dada’s were dumb when Jongup suggested something, and the F Shishi failed the math test we have to take so she was already gone. None of them treated Junnie well either.” He withdrew his hands from the table to start chewing on his nubby nail again.

“Yongguk was in D?” Daehyun asked.

“He didn’t say his first words until a week after they were supposed to rank him. They put him in D because they thought he was mute which would mean we’d need to find a new to communicate over the coms so we could understand him. Like Youngjae, though, he turned out to be the best in his class,” Himchan reported. He tightened his arms around Daehyun’s middle and hid his face in Daehyun’s shoulder. “From the moment his trial started, I knew he’d win.”

“I remember at the start of the first mission, he came up to me to bring up my ‘stability’ or whatever…” Junhong mumbled, “I thought he was going to threaten me like some of the other Shishi’s had, it was how gen 5 Shishi had kept his teammates under control, but instead he just asked what he could do to make sure I felt okay. Maybe now it’ll be the same?”

“Chances are,” Himchan said, taking up a calm tone, “even if he doesn’t like it, he’s already realized we can’t let you go. Maybe we’ll have to argue a bit but… it sounds like these three figured that out before I got here.”

Jongup’s knee was bouncing as he started playing with his fingers. After a moment he took Daehyun’s hand and started playing with his fingers instead. “It should work out,” he whispered.

“I-I get that… but… but what if he doesn’t want me… what if… he doesn’t  _ like _ me anymore?” Daehyun worried. No one knew how to answer, so the room simply went silent. Seunghee came in not much later with new drinks for the table, including one which she left for the empty chair at the head. The anxiety in the room slowly rose with the steam off the drink.

Finally the door opened, and without much thought both Junhong and Jongup stood to make a human shield. Himchan had pulled Daehyun closer to his chest, turning a bit as if to shield him. Only Youngjae responded in a vaguely calm manner, staring down Yongguk as he came into the room. Youngjae was the first to speak, “if you kill Daehyun, Junhong and Jongup will both completely lose it, I’ll black out permanently, and—”

“Be quiet.” Yongguk ordered.

“Yongguk, please, I need him. He’s the only thing that makes me feel vaguely okay when things get bad. Keeping him means keeping me sane,” Junhong tried, but he too was quickly shushed, as was Himchan when he tried to make an argument.

“Please just listen to us, Yongguk. I can’t lose him. I… I-I lo––” Jongup admitted.

“Can you all just… be quiet for one minute,” Yongguk requested. “I already... know everything you… want to say…. If we’re all here, we’re all on the same page.” There was a stagnant pause in the room, the only movement coming from Daehyun, who shot his head up from Himchan’s shoulder to meet eyes with Yongguk. “You two, sit down,” he ordered Junhong and Jongup, without breaking eye contact with Daehyun.

Daehyun gulped. “Please,” he begged softly.

Yongguk sighed and scratched the back of his head as he settled back in his own seat. “Choi, you cleaned up after yourself last night?” His face had gone blank, his voice settled and emotionless, back to its usual, still slow, speed.

“Cleaned up what?” Junhong asked.

“Whatever… mess… there was after you… went out... after Daehyun left…” Yongguk struggled with surprise at Junhong’s confusion. The others at the table, too, seemed to know immediately what he was asking, but Junhong took longer to catch on.

“I didn’t–– I mean, there wasn’t… anything… I didn’t… do anything.” The table shared looks of disbelief. “Honest! I… the old East shipping dock’s empty now so I went there and sat by the water for a while.” He pulled at his hair as he spoke, trying to calm himself. His knee was bouncing. “Not a person in sight, I swear. Once I felt like… like I could handle it… I just came here.”

“You didn’t hurt anyone?” Youngjae whispered.

Junhong shook his head. “I thought… Dae might be upset if… if he made me hurt someone and didn’t get to watch,” he whispered back. The table went silent, all their mouths agape, except for Daehyun who was grinning with red cheeks like Junhong had just given him the sweetest of compliments.

“Oh,” Yongguk answered. His fingertips drummed on the table a bit, “anyone else? Jae?”

“I was watching videos about how to be affectionate,” Youngjae confessed. “‘Cause… I thought, you know, Daehyun would probably be really upset when I got here and I couldn’t expect the rest of you to… to be human with him…”

Rather than respond to Youngjae’s terrified admission of personhood, Yongguk turned to the other side of the table. “Jongup? Chan?”

“I came straight here,” Jongup replied.

“I… failed at sleeping and then went to work…” Himchan followed. “Then I feigned a family emergency and came here.”

“Well… I guess… given this information… and how I know Daehyun is affecting all of you… I’m going to have to make a very… unpopular decision. I really hate doing this… I know you all will hate it to but… it looks like we just… can’t kill you, Daehyun. How terrible.” Yongguk’s voice was flat and unconvincing, casting a shade of confusion on the others.

“You’re not going to kill me?” Daehyun asked. He sounded more confused than hopeful, although the drumming had started back in his previously silent heart.

“No… it’s just not possible…. Rather… Rather than… killing you…” Yongguk’s voice was slower than usual, and if possible, deeper. His fingertips tapped against the table as he spoke, as if he was being very careful in thinking out each word he was laboring out. Something about his way of speaking and his movements were some personal brand of erratic, unique to Yongguk who was usually much more still. In some ways it felt as though he was testing them, both Daehyun and his team, to see if they would sit quietly and accept his authority, or as if something else was going on in his mind. “... I’ve decided… because your… crimes are so… severe… to punish you… in a way… worse than death…. So… horrendous that… you’ll only be able to cry and beg for mercy… if anyone were… were to ever ask… what it was… without saying any details….” 

He was watching them all carefully –– how Himchan’s face paled and his arms grew tighter around Daehyun’s waist with an unhappy twitch, how Jongup gripped onto Daehyun’s hand tightly and fixed his reddening eyes on his drink before looking away from the table as a whole, and how Junhong started muttering under his breath and shaking, even going so far as to start tugging at his hair, but never quite losing it in the way he used to. Daehyun had taken to staring longingly at Yongguk, a silent beg for understanding with the slightest glimmer of hope because he wasn’t about to die.

Youngjae was smiling. “Yongguk,” he called in surprised delight, being the first, and for a long time, only, amongst them to understand their leader’s plans.

“Shush,” Yongguk’s command became softer, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips that made the others find some small amount of peace amongst the haze of confusion and worry. “I told you to stay silent or I will make this… punishment… worse for him. Do you… Do you understand, Daehyun? This punishment… is so… horrendous… you can’t describe… even the smallest detail… to anyone outside this room. Only cry.”

It was less of a threat and more of a command. “I understand, Master. I will not be able to speak about my punishment to anyone besides the five of you, only cry about how terrible it is,” Daehyun agreed, although he sounded confused rather than afraid. As Youngjae’s hopeful smile seemed to grow, the other four in the room met at the muddled intersection of hope and fear.

“I imagine… the older generations… might be curious… but we can get around that,” Yongguk agreed. “So this... terrible… punishment, then…. It has many parts. All of them… are terrible… and will make Daehyun very… upset… because they’re… terrible…. The first… absolutely terrible thing… that will… ruin Daehyun’s life… is that he has to tell us whether or not he still wants to be with us.”

The table went silent as realization slowly dawned on a couple more at the table, until Himchan pointed out, almost accusingly, “Wait! You’re just testing us, aren’t you?”

“That’s part of it, yes. I’ve always tried to treat this team as a partnership between us, not a dictatorship. I want all of you to have a stake in what we do and who we are, but when I need you to listen to me, I need you to be quiet and listen to me. Sometimes the tough decisions, the ones we don’t want to make, are unavoidable if we want to keep our ambitions running for those that come after us. I didn’t want to deceive you, especially not in a way that hurt him, but in coming here with a mind to fight me if I disagreed with the consensus –– it’s not that you all potentially disagreed or that you were willing to argue, even, but… especially now, when we’re facing an issue that came because we didn’t want to listen to someone about to say something we thought we wouldn’t like, because all of this wouldn’t have happened if we, myself included, had just bothered to listen to the feelings of someone we all care about and then responded with our own arguments… it was important that I could prove you were all willing… that you had all decided in the way that I have… to listen to viewpoints even if we don’t like them or agree with them, and that you all still follow me as the team leader, even if the decision is less… happy for us.” It was rare for Yongguk to speak so long without long pauses, and it was clear he had thought a lot of what he should say in those moments. “That isn’t to say my methods were random, we do need to pretend we’ve punished him severely.”

“Pretend?” Jongup asked, his voice full of hope.

“So we don’t actually have to?” Junhong eagerly tacked on. “I can’t… I can’t do it. It can’t be me if you make us do that. I know that makes me a broken Toto, that it’s just another thing to add to the list of reasons why me winning my mask was a mistake but–-”

“I’m… glad… you can’t, Junhong. That sort of… development in… humanity–– it’s what made you the best candidate in my mind,” Yongguk replied. “You don’t have to hurt him, none of us do. It wouldn’t make sense to hurt him or kill him because we weren’t listening when he tried to stop us from making a mistake. If it’s alright with all of you, I thought we could just pretend to have punished him, and then focus on changing what caused this to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“You’re talking about breaking the rules, Yongguk. Not bending them, breaking them outright,” said Himchan. He was quickly shushed by the others.

“Daehyun’s, um, he’s worth breaking the rules for, right?” Yongguk replied. The touched smile that spread across Daehyun’s cheeks turned Yongguk’s cheeks red. His head ducked down, knee shaking, fingers still drumming on the table. He repeated, “Daehyun’s worth breaking the rules for. Sometimes we have to think for ourselves.”

“He definitely is,” Youngjae was bouncing in his seat, excited. 

“I’m not disagreeing, I just wanted to make sure you were sure,” Himchan mumbled, a small smile slowly blooming across his face. “But we do need to lie about it if anyone asks for the sake of maintaining that everyone else has to follow the rules besides us.” 

Smiles finally bloomed across the table, the haze fading into a calm and pleasant shade. Quiet words of gratitude were brushed away by a struggling and uncomfortable Yongguk. “Daehyun,” he called the attention away from himself, “you have to answer: do you want to be with us? Do you want to stay our… ours?”

“Ye–– Yeah. Yes. Absolutely. Definitely. More than anything,” Daehyun confirmed.

“Ok. Part two of this ‘punishment’, he… he might actually… not… like… this part… that much, but… you have to take your collar off when you’re sleeping and you have to spend a couple hours each day without it on. We’re… I’m going to get you a new one… no lock, just a buckle… no electricity. It doesn’t matter who takes it off, but it has to be off for at least part of the day and whenever you’re asleep.”

“Why?” Daehyun cried out, a bit anxious and agitated at the news.

“The internet said it would be… good for you… like in the head… to come ‘down’ from… it… sometimes… be equal with us sometimes…. We need to… give you… time… to be… a person… and… point out when… we’re being… stupid…” Yongguk sounded confused. “It’s supposed to… help with… Jae, help.”

Youngjae took a moment to understand what Yongguk was struggling to say. “The videos we watched last night, or the night before last, I guess, said that you need to come down from that headspace sometimes and be on equal footing with us. It’s supposed to be better for your mental health if you can spend some time every day being normal. We originally were going to ignore that part because this is a special scenario, but… I guess that’s different now. They… also said we need to provide aftercare, make sure he’s consenting every time we wanna do something, and listen whenever he tells us no.” Youngjae listed pointedly to Yongguk.

“Those are all also rules now.” Yongguk agreed. “Daehyun, you have to tell us… what you want… not what we want you to want… what you actually want. And… if he doesn’t want to do something… anything… we have to listen to him. We need to do everything we can to make sure he’s happy, healthy, and doesn’t have a reason to run away ever again. I don’t think any of us could take that.”

“So that’s our terrible, horrible punishment for him, then?” Himchan asked with a small smile. “Trying to take care of him and keep him happy enough that this doesn’t happen again?”

“The horror,” Youngjae chuckled. “What do you say, Dae?”

Despite his small smile, Daehyun sniffled and rubbed under one eye. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, and rough around the edges. “I’m s-so… I love all of you so much a-and I’m just so happy you still want me a-and… and I’m going to try to take care of all of you too. I’ll do everything–– anything I can to make you happy, I promise.”

Jongup squeezed his hand. “I think we’ll probably be happy if you are, pet.” The word sent an affectionate warmth through the six of them.


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The official epilogue to the story
> 
> (note: there is something coming after this, I just don't know what exactly to call it. i hope you'll look forward to that as well)

“It’s not a matter of my personal feelings,” Yongguk insisted. “It’s a matter of…  _ insurance. _ There’s even a precedent of this, you were the one that set it… yeah, with Youngjae. It’s the same…. Of course, he’s being punished severely. He’s absolutely miserable currently.”

Daehyun was not miserable in any sense of the word. They were on the couch in the compound, Youngjae at the worktable behind them with a microscope and some small-ended equipment, building or fixing something as he had been since early that morning. Daehyun, meanwhile, was sitting on the floor at Yongguk’s feet. His head rested on Yongguk’s knee and Yongguk was toying with a couple strands of his hair while he spoke on the phone. Rather than miserable, Daehyun would rather describe his current state as loose and relaxed. Even the collar, sitting heavy and tight around his neck, was a constant sense of comfort to him, reminding him that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Exactly where he wanted to be.

In the past couple days, adjusting hadn’t been easy. At first, he hadn’t quite been able to say what he needed and they hadn’t thought to ask— just take what they needed from him. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t willing to give, of course: affection, comfort, and some less soft, less innocent things, but that didn’t lift the heaviness in his heart much. Some part of him was still stuck in the cafe, still stuck in limbo about belonging to them. It had gotten better since then, since they had found out how he was feeling, with each taking their time to make sure he felt owned and subservient as much as he felt loved and needed. It was what he needed.

“I wouldn’t advise that. We’ve already had a real life example of what happens when someone puts him in danger, you don’t need to fake it to prove my point. Yeah, the robbers… somehow, still living. When he’s well-behaved, we let him go watch.” Yongguk chuckled. “You’d be right. They both want to impress him and he really likes it gory. Some of Z’s most gruesome work has come just from Hyunnie watching… yeah. I think Moon set the record for how fast you can beat information out of someone the last time we let Hyunnie watch. He’s good for business. Like I was saying before, he makes the three of them more compliant and stable, too.... What? She’s right. I don’t think we’d have to kill any of them anymore, with him around. He can stop Zelo mid-tantrum without even getting hurt.”

There was a long pause, during which Yongguk leaned down to press his lips to Daehyun’s hair, careful to remain silent so his father wouldn’t hear over the phone line. “It seemed like a good idea at the time, okay? I didn’t realize any of us were… capable of getting attached like they are. It was simple, when you take that out of the equation. Keke is supposed to be a sharpshooter and he has perfect aim… I suppose my mistake was indulging Moon then… Fucking him was all he’d talk about for like… three weeks. I thought he could get it out of his system.” The long pause came again and Yongguk’s fingers withdrew from Daehyun’s hair, drawing out a pout. “Ok, I understand. I’ll do it. Talk to you later, Dad.”

He hung up, throwing his phone off to the side and then pulling on Daehyun’s collar, upward and just for a moment. Daehyun took the silent command well, climbing up on the couch by Yongguk’s side and letting himself be manhandled like a ragdoll until he was curled up on Yongguk’s lap. His expression had quickly turned into something much more content.

“What did he want you to do?” Youngjae asked.

“To quote him directly, ‘anything possible to keep that Choi kid from losing his damn mind like his crazy-ass dad did.’ He said they didn’t care if I had to let Daehyun go free, no punishment at all, so long as I was sure it wouldn’t happen again and sure it would keep Zelo from losing it. Apparently he thinks taking care of anyone from the Choi family is punishment enough. That doesn’t mean I’m gonna tell him the truth, but it’s a good sign,” replied Yongguk.

“It makes sense. Gen 5 Toto and gen 5 Dada were maniacs that nearly destroyed the Matoki as a whole. A little bit of omission or exaggeration on your part and ours seem just as bad.” Youngjae was speaking over the sound of a small electric whirring as he continued working on his project.

Yongguk’s arms tightened around Daehyun possessively, silently, before he answered. “He’s probably still bitter they had to cut their run short just to kill them, too. Almost done?” He ran his fingers over the edge of Daehyun’s collar as he talked, and slipped two under the band once he was done to give a soft pull. Daehyun’s eyes fluttered shut and he slumped into Yongguk, blissful with even such a small show of control over him. Neither missed his soft, shaky exhale, so needy and pleased that it had both chuckling.

“With Hyunnie’s? It’s been done for a couple minutes, I was starting on the bomb detonator for tonight since you were still talking on the phone.” As Youngjae was talking, Yongguk unfastened Daehyun’s collar. 

Daehyun whined, “no, I still wanna wear it. Please? Just a little longer.”

“We’ll go back to it once we have your com attached and tested,” Youngjae replied, “but this is business, so we need you to be all-here for it. This is going to hurt, okay?” He had a set of needles and two small devices in a tray.

Daehyun grumbled out an affirmative response, although his mood improved once he had successfully snatched Yongguk’s hand to hold onto as Youngjae messed around near his ear, occasionally stabbing something into the skin there. He winced a little as Youngjae fastened something behind his ear, what felt like a long, thin metal rod being inserted down the entire length of the skin back there. Once set in place, Youngjae attached something onto the outside of the rod and pressed on it. 

Daehyun heard a loud beep in his ear, despite not being able to feel a com there. Youngjae must have made it too small to feel.

“Was that him?” Himchan asked from over the com line.

“It’s me,” Daehyun replied. Youngjae ran through how it worked briefly, the com was small so it couldn’t be seen and it’s controls would normally be hidden by his hair, attached to the small bar behind Daehyun’s ear. He wouldn’t be able to remove it, but he’d have access to the com system whenever he wanted.

Youngjae turned his attention to the others then, each off doing their own work but connected over the com system. “Everyone— the file name to control his com on your screen is his birthday. Select your number for a private channel or ‘zero’ for remote access to his com. He can turn it on and off himself, but we’ll also be able to do it for him when we need to. It’s impossible for the com to be removed from his ear, even if the control gets taken off, so he’ll always have it even when it’s off. If I got this right, each of us should be able to hijack his com for one-on-one coversations. We’ll have to test that now, though. If there’s an issue, it’ll be with our coms, not his. I didn’t build them with this feature in mind.”

“I’ll test it,” Yongguk volunteered. He got up, leaving the room and going far enough away that Daehyun could no longer hear him except through the coms. Pouting, Daehyun settled back into Youngjae’s arms, who readily took him. “Daehyun, can you hear me?” Yongguk asked.

“Yeah, I can. Can anyone else hear Yongguk?” Daehyun replied.

Youngjae, by virtue of being next to Daehyun only, had a reply, “you and Yongguk are both silent on our com line. Can Yongguk still hear us?”

“Tell him that I can,” Yongguk replied, and Daehyun passed the message along.

With that set, Youngjae went back to work, and a pouty Daehyun settled down on the couch and kicked his feet, waiting for Yongguk to come back or someone else to come in and be affectionate with him. He was needy. It wasn’t surprising.

“Dae,” Daehyun was surprised when Yongguk continued speaking to him through the com instead of returning to the room, “if they really can’t hear us right now, I’d like to say something to you. I… It’s easier… like this. I promise when I’m done I’ll come back and get your collar back on.”

“It’s okay with me,” Daehyun agreed easily. “I can wait a bit if you need me to.”

Yongguk was silent for a long moment, unsure. “I was lying, before… when I was speaking with my father… It… It was entirely a matter of my personal feelings. Even if you didn’t help the others… even if you made Zelo more unstable rather than less… I would’ve made the same decision… I still would’ve kept you. Killing you was never really an option.”

“Thank you,” Daehyun replied in a small voice.

“No, it’s not— I’m trying to say that— that I… when you ran away, the only thought I really had… I had a lot of thoughts, actually, but punishing you wasn’t one of them. I was thinking about why you might’ve done it, about what I had done wrong, about how to get you back, about how to keep you happy once we did— but never really punishment… not until they brought it up. It wasn’t even a thought for me.” Yongguk was having an easier time than normal expressing his feelings.

“Gukkie—” Daehyun wanted a hug. “I get that this is important and I wanna hear what you have to say, but I’d also like it if you could come back soon.”

“Just listen for a bit longer, please. Is that okay?” Yongguk got a mopey but affirmative answer, so he went on. “I just… wanted you to know… it wasn’t me going along with the majority vote. It wasn’t about keeping them happy or sane. It was… an entirely selfish decision. I made it before I had time to think about what had happened, even. The thing is… I knew they were all attached to you. I could tell Jongup and Youngjae were before we even took you, and it only took a month or so before all four of them were hooked on you. I’m sure you remember, it made me wary of you, but I didn’t think that I… Did we ever really tell you about what happened before… all the things going on before we took you?”

“No, but I think I probably know…”

“Did you know that I told Jongup to kill you?” Yongguk asked.

“No,” replied Daehyun, his voice going soft.

“You caught him killing someone or other. It’s not like us to send him out to do grunt work like that, it was just for the sake of show. We wanted people to find his body, for the images to be online. It’s just a tactic to scare people. He insisted that he wouldn’t… kill you, I mean. An eye-witness would make us that much scarier, wouldn’t it? That’s what he was arguing. We had a waitress bug your jacket to keep track of you, and we all found out the next morning Jongup just wanted to snatch you for sex. He would’ve that night but something about you made him want you long term, and that meant checking up on you. I think he liked you from the start.”

“He doesn’t seem like the type,” Daehyun was speaking in a quiet and mumbly manner, his cheeks flushed red as if they were covered in blood.

“I didn’t think he was capable of liking anyone so I didn’t see it for what it was,” Yongguk agreed. “Everything after that… Jongup and Youngjae meeting you outside the house, Jae and Z coming later to bug the place, even the meeting with that pathetic nothing gang… it wasn’t about them. It was all just for you. Maybe you’ve realized by now, but in situations like that, we normally just sent grunts to blow up the place with everyone in it. We don’t need to be involved but… Youngjae went to vouch for Jongup, to make sure Jongup’s sense you could be trusted was right. The bugs and videos were pointless, and Youngjae could’ve done it by himself if I was really set on sending one of us instead some low level techies, but we sent Z along because we wanted to see if he’d kill you. You not only being able to handle him, but to actually enjoy it? We weren’t expecting that.”

“I’m not the only one in the world that likes it that way,” Daehyun mumbled. He was squirming though he was unsure why he was uncomfortable, or even if that was the right label for what he happened to be feeling.

“Yeah, but don’t pretend like Z isn’t a different breed of sadist. Usually relationships like that are built on trust, but especially back then, you couldn’t trust him with anyone. I think that’s how you got to him the way you had gotten to Jongup. When he got back that night, he wasn’t acting like himself. No tantrums, he just didn’t want to talk about you. Normally he’d shout everything that could go wrong at us in situations like that, but instead he was silent and shaking, kind of like how he’d get when he was a kid. The moment you volunteered to give us a show should’ve been the moment I realized what you were going to be to us. The younger three… from the way they had gotten excited it didn’t seem like just horniness, there was something more to it, something about them knowing you were interested in them and willing that was… different.”

“Bad different?” Daehyun asked, prompted really, as Yongguk had gone silent for a long time.

“That depends on your perspective. Mostly, it was just… unexpected. Admittedly, the meeting with your gang became about Inguk as much as it had been about you. You were the only reason he didn’t just die with the others from the start, because they had decided they wanted you, but he had proven himself so fiercely loyal and capable that our attention shifted to him. When he failed… no one survives failing like that. It’s a rule. I guess we’ve been breaking rules for you from the start then— Himchan suggested that you might grow to resent us or that we might pointlessly make hurt you if we killed him, as if you had got him that quickly too. How did you do that? All four of them liked you as much as they were capable of at the time before you were even really ours.”

“I’ve always been yours,” Daehyun objected.

“And you always will be,” Yongguk agreed. “They all… it was painfully apparent to me that… they were already too attached. All of them were acting like completely different people. Z was even flirting with you, in his own strange, murderous way. I don’t think I had ever… realized he was capable of that. Junhong was flirting, Jongup was fighting for you instead of just going with the flow like he normally would, Youngjae was trying to figure out how to best keep you happy, and I know I wasn’t supposed to overhear, but Himchan came to you for affection. I thought I knew him better then I knew myself but I had never thought he needed that.”

“Is he still talking? What is he saying?” Youngjae asked. “Your face is really red.”

“He’s talking about what he wants to do to me when you’re all off work later,” Daehyun lied at Yongguk’s direction. “He has a lot of… very interesting things to say….”

“We better be invited,” Youngjae mumbled to himself.

Yongguk went on, “I didn’t realize any of them were capable of it. Looking bad, it should’ve been obvious, right? But, I didn’t get it… not until the robbers came. That’s when I realized how much they all cared about you, how much they needed you. I… took longer… I didn’t realize I could care about you that way… not until I thought you were really gone. I couldn’t even hit you properly when it came time to punish you and I was acting so soft about it, but I still didn’t realize until they said you weren’t in your room and I could feel my heart drop out of my chest. Hearing you cry over the com line and beg to belong to us... all I could think was ‘you fucked this up. He’s everything to you, just like he is to them, just like all of them are to you, and you let it implode. You’ve ruined it—’”

“You shouldn’t think like that,” Daehyun whispered. He let his voice drop low enough to stop Youngjae from hearing him. “It wasn’t your fault, Yongguk, and it isn’t ruined. I’m here now with you and that’s where I’m going to stay. I belong to you, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted and all I’ll ever need. If you’d come back in here, you’d see that. You’d see that I’m here, I’m yours, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“I just wanted you to know,” Yongguk replied softly. “You mean the world to the others. You’re everything to them. And, you’re everything to me, too. I know I’m not good at this. I’m not sure I’d ever be able to say something like this to you again. That’s why I needed to tell you now.”

“It’s okay,” Daehyun replied. “You don’t need to say it. You don’t need to say anything at all with me. I already know, and I already feel the same.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tune in soon for... the thing coming after this... whatever it is... (I like it quite a lot~)


	20. Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An article, printed in a well known online newspaper.
> 
>  
> 
> ******* CONTENT WARNING *********   
> (If you're thinking 'wait but this story has already been *~*fucking extra*~* and I made it this far' -> I cant honestly say the content is necessarily worse as far as graphicness goes, it might be about the same, but this chapter goes into some more psychological aspects that I worry might be harmful. Be advised, stop reading if it's messing with you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **IMPORTANT NOTE: Up until this point, the story has been told by a reliable narrator (me) with limited information about each scene and situation. This… thing you are about to read is not the same. The narrator is unreliable.**  
>  (I don’t feel like this note would be necessary if it weren’t for that fact. If I had written the entire story unreliably, it wouldn’t be needed, but since I did, I felt like y’all deserved a heads-up that this is no longer a reliable narrator.)   
> Please do not take everything you read as unilaterally true or factual. The narrator is limited to her own perspective. The Matoki and Daehyun are known to act in order to achieve their goals. It’s been said since the beginning of the story that Daehyun in particular is a good actor, who can even cry on command. You will know some information in this is factually incorrect, other bits you’ll have to figure out on your own. You should scrutinize each character and their motivations before taking what’s going on to be real rather than constructed. I’m not sure how clear-cut the motivations might be, as well, so please tell me if you can figure out what they are trying to do to her and why. That’s not a test for you or anything — this is a form of practicing some undeveloped skills for me and I want to know how well I’m doing.   
> Again, this is partially a weird practice drill for me. Please let me know your thoughts on what’s going on, as well as your opinions on the writing itself, and any constructive criticism you might have. Thank you <3

The Strange World on The Other Side

 

By Yoo Shiah

 

WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT, IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE

 

The following article has been read and approved by Matoki Specialist Kim Himchan, who had worked with the Seoul PD for the past 8 years on the Matoki case after his father retired from the position. While I can not be certain it was read by the Matoki themselves, I am under the impression all content within the article has been cleared by the organization as publishable. If the organization wishes for any amendments to be made, they may contact my editor through Mr. Kim, who will happily make changes. I ask my readers to understand the reasoning behind my content control and accept its necessity as a safety measure. Thank you.

 

When my friends and family heard of my plans, they often asked if I had lost my mind or if my boss intended to kill me, but only now that I sit here in front of my computer, research done, heart still beating, do I wonder whether or not I had already lost my mind. Was is it hubris or foolishness that led me to the Matoki’s doorstep?

It was a month ago that I was approached by a young man named Kim Himchan, 28 years old, who wanted to know if I would be interested in an exclusive with the Matoki. I would be permitted an interview with him, and then taken into Matoki operations to document what has never been seen before. As stated above, Mr. Kim had been working with the police on the Matoki issue for 8 years, and comes from a direct line of previous experts. He’s a quite handsome and extremely personable man standing at about 180 cm, with a disarmingly charming disposition, not what one would expect from a long line of advisors to the police on the most dangerous gang in our country.

“They like consistency,” Kim told me when I asked of the reason for his family business. “There was once, about forty years ago, that someone outside of my family was appointed as the main advisor, and they were quickly done away with. My grandmother was forced back into the business despite her wishes for a normal life.”

“You wouldn’t describe your life as normal?” I asked him.

Mr. Kim laughed at that. “I’m a caged bird, Ms. Yoo. Or, perhaps if I am in this life, a caged rabbit is a better analogy. Every moment of my life from birth to death will be monitored by them, and without caution I could find my end in an unpleasant manner. Even my children will face the same world that I do. My house is not quite enslaved but neither are we free.”

“Did you ever think of not having children? To break the cycle?”

“There’s no chance of that,” said Mr. Kim. “I don’t have choices like that. Still, someone has to do this job, right? I don’t mind taking that sacrifice.”

I asked next what it’s like to work for the Matoki.

“I don’t work for them, persay. That’s quite the misconception. I work for the police, my job is advising them on how to approach the Matoki issue in a way that will not result in mass deaths. They— the Matoki that is— would like to avoid that as much as possible, but they will do as they see fit to retain the life they’ve made for themselves. We are very fortunate that they do feed us information, a source that speaks through me to the police, to best assure both the police and the Matoki can continue to work towards their goals without, well, a war,” answered Mr. Kim.

“Would the Matoki go to war with the police if they had the chance?”

“They have every ability to destroy us, but they have no motivation to do so currently. The police may think of it as a war already, but I don’t think the Matoki truly consider us a threat, just a small nuisance,” replied Mr. Kim. He did not seem at all alarmed by the possibility that the Matoki would destroy the police on a whim.

“You didn’t answer my question before, Mr. Kim.”

“What’s it like to work with the Matoki? Well, not as scary as one would expect. Perhaps it’s that I’ve been raised to understand my place w.r.t their organization, but I find it’s quite simple. They’re very strict, yet consistent in what they want from me. My job in their minds is simply to listen to their thoughts through their source, and use the information they give me to prevent the police from becoming too much of a nuisance.”

“You’ve mentioned that several times now— the police becoming a nuisance. Last year we saw the tragic deaths of Commander Woo and his family, was that an example?”

“Indeed, it was. That sort of ‘disrespect’ is absolutely intolerable in the Matoki’s minds, and this the end result was the tragedy of last year. Admittedly I did not find out about the tragedy until after I was released, so my details on the situation are limited.”

“Released from jail?” I asked. Mr. Kim had been arrested by Commissioner Woo, who was wrongfully under the impression that Kim worked for the Matoki.

“No, I was barely in that cell for an hour,” replied Mr. Kim. “The Matoki came for me when he made his speech. They pulled me from my cell and, well, how would I put this? I… I failed at my job in their minds, and so I was punished. I am very fortunate they did not consider it enough of a failure on my part to warrant my death, but I spent a month or so in… less than ideal conditions, to put it lightly.”

“Can you elaborate?”

“I most certainly cannot,” replied Mr. Kim with a warm smile. I’d like to imagine that if eyes could tell emotions, his would be hiding exactly what that punishment was like for him. Having seen the damage the Matoki can do to things they care for first hand, I can assure the readers Mr. Kim was in a situation unimaginable to and regular person.

Mr. Kim could not stay for much longer before his work began again, but he assured me he would be in touch soon.

It was a week later that he contacted me. The note came with approval from the current police chief, warning me to take care. Through his source, he had received a date, time, and location in which I was to follow, alone. The police were aware of the plans of the Matoki, and I spoke often with them and Mr. Kim over the following two weeks on how to approach the situation at hand without any deaths, including my own. It was truly a whirlwind of terror, but nothing compared to the day in which I was meant to leave.

I was summoned to a well known Matoki club during its closed hours, where I sat and waited at the empty bar for an hour while chatting with club staff.

“We don’t normally work at these hours,” said the bartender, a young Ms. Park who studies business at a nearby university. “I’m missing my Econ lecture, but this is an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.”

I asked her to elaborate on the opportunity, and in reply she showed me the small Matoki tattoo she had on her wrist. “I’ve always been a fan, since I was young,” she told me. “We’re a pretty large community, the fans are, so most of us never get taken by the Matoki and put to use, as much as we wish to be. I’m fortunate that I get to work here, even. My friends are jealous. But, once in a while a fan gets lucky and is taken. From what they told me, that’s who they’re sending to get you, one of those very lucky fans. Chaerin, one of the other bartenders, was here when the news came in, and she says the fan has even seen the Matoki up close. Maybe if I touch them, I’ll be touching skin that the Matoki have touched. An indirect touch!” She was so excited by the idea that she spoke about it for the remaining 55 minutes or so I was waiting.

Long time readers may recall a series I published in 2013 on fans of the Matoki and their motivations, and would be unsurprised to find that Ms. Park was from a rough neighborhood growing up, until the Matoki perceived the gang that terrorized her neighborhood as a threat and destroyed them, putting her in line with the third largest group of fans I found. Ms. Park was quite distraught as she described the conditions she had grown up in, but in the moment the Matoki joined her story she became quite excited despite the grotesque ends of the gang members. Art, the fans call it. In those moments, I could not agree. The sort of description turned my stomach and made me feel unsafe, yet I did not back out. The only way to deal with fear is to face it head on, a saying I would hear later on in the day.

Eventually a visitor joined us in the empty, silent club, a man similar to Himchan in stature and very little else. He entered through the door to the staff room, dressed in a heavy coat with a hood, scarf, face mask, and sunglasses. I thought for a moment that he was a kpop idol who did not wish to be seen from the way he was hiding himself.

“Park […],” he greeted Ms. Park by her full name, which I’ve redacted for privacy concerns. He spoke in a manner that was quite affectionate, and made the object of his attention feel flustered quite well. At first witnessing his effect on Ms. Park, I did not understand, but over the coming week I very frequently felt the power of his charms. That, of course, is not being said because of any personal reasons, but rather as some reasoning for his job, so to speak, within the organization. Either he was made for his job, or his job was made for him. He continued in speaking to Ms Park, “the Masters are so grateful to you for coming in early today. They are so lucky to have you in their orbit, and have noticed your good behavior. You’ve pleased them.” He took her wrist in his hand, examined the tattoo there, and then rubbed his thumb over it. Ms. Park was frozen throughout their exchange, though when he took a moment to pet her cheek she squealed. “Could you get Ms. Yoo and I some water before we head upstairs? A special glass, for her, I’m sure you’ve been given instructions.” I would later find out, before drinking the water, that she had been instructed to mix in roofies, and I would not be allowed into the Matoki complex if I did not agree to drink it as it was.

Once our two glasses of water had been received and Ms. Park had once again been praised, both for her obedience and for her cuteness, the man had me follow him upstairs to a private room, where he locked the door and settled on one of the couches. 

“Sorry about that,” he said warmly, “I was told she was a fan and would enjoy an indirect touch with the Masters. They thought it would be fitting to reward her, as she’s skipping school for this and [redacted].” He knew a lot about her personal life and hardships she was going through at the time, as if he was a close friend despite the fact that they had never met before.

We spoke for longer than I expected in the private room. There were a number of rules and procedures I needed to know in order to assure my safety, and the young man had thankfully taken the time not only to tell them all to me, but to drill me on them and test me until he was sure I would not do anything to endanger myself. It was once he was certain I was clear on everything that he gave me the drugged water with full disclosure on it’s ingredients and purpose. Mind you, dear reader, in order to meet the Matoki, I had to purposely take a roofie from a man I had never met before and whose face I had not seen. I didn't even know what color his hair was, much less his name. Needless to say, the situation felt unsafe.

“Are you afraid?” The way he said it felt more like a dare than a question.

“Of course,” I replied. “Is that a bad thing?”

I felt like he was smiling, even though I couldn’t see his face. “Of course not. Any sane person would be afraid in a situation like this. It’s only sensible. But, the only way to deal with fear is to face it head on.”

You’ll be unsurprised to find my memory goes blank, and he had switched my recorder off such that the entire trip to the Matoki headquarters was untraceable. My cell phone and all other electronic devices had to be left at the club, even my old analog watch, leaving me with nothing but the off recorder and a notebook with a pen.

I woke up in a small room, just large enough for a twin bed and a metal chair. I had been left to rest on the bed, and the man who had come to pick me up was sitting in the chair with a book when I awoke.

“You’re awake,” he said. “We’re so excited to have you here with us. The Masters thought we might like to speak before you meet them, to calm your nerves a bit. It’s a bit easier to process my existence, since I’m almost a person, like you.” I never did question him on his use of the word ‘almost’. He pulled off his face mask and sunglasses so that we were face to face while he was talking. The scarf and jacket were gone soon as well, dropped on the floor with very little care. He was younger than I expected, likely somewhere near his early twenties, and was very handsome when expressionless, adorable when not. He was a captivating person to look at, which, again, I only mention as it relates to what I’d soon find out was his job. 

He eventually introduced himself as Hyunnie, the pet name given to him by the Matoki, who he quite lovingly referred to as “the Masters” or “my Masters” in almost every interaction I had with him over the coming days. “I had a real, full name once, up until a bit over a year and a half ago now, when the Masters took me.” He could not tell me what it was, nor would he tell me how old he was or anything else about himself. There was concern at one point, even, that I’d be allowed to share his gender, vague descriptions of his appearance, and his moniker, although I have since been assured I am allowed as much as I’ve written. He continued on, “I don’t really exist anymore. When they took me, they wiped my existence from all records. That full-named person I was before doesn’t exist anymore– he’s gone. I’m just the Matoki’s Hyunnie.”

“How were you taken by the Matoki?” I asked.

“I had been a fan for years– my tattoo is on my back, I’ll show you if you’d like, it’s amazing– but I lived with my half brother and a gang he belonged to until they took me. The gang made a mistake and offended my dear Masters, and so we were summoned for payment for the disrespect. From then on I’ve been with my Masters.”

“And your brother? The gang?” I asked.

“I don’t know what happened to my brother, but the rest died within six months of being taken— they were too weak to last longer,” replied Hyunnie. He spoke about the matter fondly, as one might about meeting a loved one for the first time. “It doesn’t really matter, those all happened pre-Hyunnie, so they more or less didn’t happen at all. Not to me, at least. As far as I’m concerned, I started to exist a year and 7 months ago, with my Masters.”

“Are you saying you don’t remember your previous life?”

“I do, it just doesn’t matter. It’s the past, and I’ve moved on to something much more pleasant.” When pressed, Hyunnie told me, “before my half-brother joined that gang, we were really poor. We had never really known my dad, and his dad was in and out of jail for most his childhood, permanently by the time I was four. Our mom died when I was still young, and he fought for custody when we were sure she wouldn’t make it. We had a lot of bills to pay off, and things were really rough, so he started to get into quicker, less legal ways of making money, starting in the very legal profession of being a bouncer and branching off from there. Still, there were a lot of times when we couldn’t make ends meet, we were starving or homeless or both depending on the month. The gang offered to help cover it if my brother would work for them consistently, and if he fully joined we wouldn’t have to pay rent because of the Matoki’s mandate. Honestly though, the lot of them were awful, and we were planning on ditching once we had stolen enough money from them to cover the bills. But again, none of it really matters. As far as I care, I’ve always been the Matoki’s Hyunnie, nothing else.”

“You like your new life that much?” I asked. He confirmed. “Can you tell me what exactly you do for the Matoki?” I asked.

“I don’t do anything, really,” replied Hyunnie. “At least not in a work-sense. I have no job for them, this is the closest I’ve ever gotten to ‘working’ for them, and that’s the way I like it. Unlike other fans which may be incorporated into the organization, I was blessed to be chosen as a pet.”

“A pet?” Admittedly, my response came stammered and concerned.

“The Matoki find humans to be alien. They don’t quite understand us, but they find us interesting to observe. They’re curious, to put it simply, because we are so different. So, it’s not uncommon for them to take a pet every once in a while, as a subject to study. A case study, if you will. I don’t have much to offer in terms of practical, criminal skills, but I am the right sort of person for this line of work,” Hyunnie replied.

“May I ask how they study you?” I found myself asking.

“It’d be much easier to show you,” he had replied. I had agreed, and then immediately felt that same discomfort when his response was to turn from me and lift up his shirt. Once it was gone, I understood. I also threw up. I had never seen something so grotesque in my life. I had no means of know skin could be destroyed that many times over and still heal. I would see Hyunnie’s back several times over the week, given that he and the Matoki seemed quite fond of the ‘art’, as the called it, done back there, and strangely, over that time my initial reaction would fade. 

I feel the need to express the change in my feelings towards the scars there as I discuss seeing it for the first time because my initial response had been so violently repulsed, but within a week I instead began to see it as art myself, and I’m frankly unsure that I could describe it with anything less than admiration.

According to Hyunnie, he had had the massive tattoo of the Matoki symbol on his back for several years when the scars were made. They had since been left to heal, and hadn’t been touched once in a full year or so, save for a couple bruises. It wasn’t random, erratic, twisted scars in the way that one would expect after seeing the bodies the Matoki leave on the street, but rather something akin to ritualistic or aesthetic scarring, done with both knives and hot irons, to enhance the tattoo that had already been there. Entire sections of his skin had been meticulously removed, allowed to heal, and removed again countless times over until the scar was just right, other sections had clearly been cut and healed in the same pattern, and others yet, burned. All such injuries were inflicted with expert precision and accuracy time after time, without a single error made.

It was a strange way to realize they must find Hyunnie quite endearing, and yet that was what I quickly was able to understand from the scarring. It had been done as a proud and careful mark of ownership, and implied to me that there was some fondness amongst the Matoki for Hyunnie in a way that was not just restricted to his usefulness as someone to be tortured and taken apart. Perhaps he was an experiment in Stockholm Syndrome, or perhaps on how much one human body can take before it just gives up on trying to heal, but it certainly felt, in the moments in which I saw his back and in private moments I happened to accidentally witness, that they must care for him in their own completely inhuman way.

“Did it hurt?” Admittedly my question lacked any point, but I felt as though I needed to say something as I had just vomited and he seemed confused and taken aback.

“Oh, right,” he replied, as if I had reminded him that normal people didn’t have every inch of skin on their body ritualistically scarred in some way. “This isn’t normal for you, is it? It was a nice pain. I liked it a lot. I even kept asking for them to continue when they’d stop, although they never listened because there was too much risk that I’d die.” Somehow I feel foolish now, for how I could not understand what he meant.

“Does that scare you? That they might’ve, and perhaps, still might, kill you?” Foolish, indeed.

Hyunnie flashed a sort of coy smile, one that felt at the time entirely out-of-place within our discussion. “It excites me,” he had said. “It’s one of the things that they like best about me. People who respond well to fear and pain are invaluable to my Masters. Anyone who can handle them will find they become quite dear to the Matoki.”

“Is this your only duty, then? To be tortured and scarred?” I should note Hyunnie’s chest and stomach, when he had turned, were a sickening black and blue, cut in certain places, and most of it was bandaged with bright red blood staining the white gauze. (I should also note he placed the wastebasket I had vomited in outside the room, an several minutes later a knock on the door noted its return after having been cleaned.)

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a duty. My Masters enjoy hurting me, and my only purpose in life is to bring them joy. They do whatever they like to me and take whatever they need from me, and in return I have the honor of belonging to them, of receiving their needs, and of serving them in a way most fans could only dream of. I’ll admit though, I’m selfish. I make my own demands of my Masters, and they indulge me when they have the time. Some of the bruises are from such indulgences.” He was proud of the way they own his body and him, I see that now.

“Can you tell me anything else that you do for them? Or that they do for you?” I asked. “I’m trying to get a handle on what exactly you mean by all of this.”

Hyunnie had a practiced smile, one that suggested he was very used to someone struggling in front of him. Despite all I had seen so far, he managed to make me relax with just a look. Again, not my personal feelings, but rather pertinent to his role. “They’ve just said it’s alright if I’m more specific, so you’re in luck. I’m a pet, that’s what I truly mean by all this. The Master’s use me for their own enjoyment, whenever they are bored and would like to hurt someone or whenever they have an experiment in mind. There are times when humans don’t make sense to them, and during those times I’m tasked with explaining why we may act the way we do. I help them understand humans better, since we’re confusing to them.”

“So mainly you’re here to explain human behavior?”

“Amongst other things. For instance, the Masters don’t really have emotions besides rage and boredom, and that rage is usually put to good use within the organization, but in cases where it can’t be used— where no one is slated to die or be hurt in a day— I’m sent in. Needless to say, it can be a volatile situation, but I’m good at calming them down without getting hurt. I hope you don’t have the misfortune of seeing it, but if you do you’ll know capable of turning their homicidal rage in calm contentment within a minute or so of being put in the same room as them. I’m sure you can see how that might be useful to them. I’m also the treatment for boredom, they enjoy hurting me as much as I enjoy being hurt by them, they enjoy testing their theories on human reactions on me, and I’d like to believe, even if I have no proof, that they like taking care of me.”

“In what way?” After I asked, he needed clarification. “In what way do they take care of you?”

“Humans require certain things the Matoki do not, things like affection, sleep, medicine, and regular meals. It’s selfish of me to want to believe they enjoy taking care of me, that they are so meticulous and well-thought out about my care because they take some satisfaction in knowing they can take care of a human as well as they can break one, but I have no evidence of it. It’s just what I like to think. It’s better not to let myself feel like I’m a burden in anyway,” Hyunnie replied.

“Are you happy here, Hyunnie? Do you ever wonder if you’d be better off in the human world?” 

“I’m happier here than I’d ever be anywhere else,” he replied. “This is where I belong in this world. It’s where I’m meant to be. Being with my Masters is the only thing I really want, and nothing else would be sufficient.”

“So you’ve never so much as thought about leaving? Or tried to run away?”

Hyunnie went silent. His face drained of color. I’d like to imagine there was a bit of a shake to his hands as he went pale, and soon enough he couldn’t even meet my eye. “No, I don’t want to. Please? Please, I’d rather lie or avoid it. No, I— Please, don’t make me tell her, Masters,” he whispered. “I don’t want to remember. I’m here now, forever, you know that. There’s no need to bring it up. I don’t want to remember any of it, please.” He pleaded quietly for several seconds longer. I’m not sure exactly how he was communicating with them, only that he was able to speak to them whenever he pleased for the entire duration of time I stayed with the Matoki, even if none were nearby.

“I tried to run away once,” he finally admitted. His voice was shaky and upset. There were tears in the back oh his eyes which he rubbed away every couple of seconds. “It wasn’t long after I had been brought here, it’s been over a year now since it happened. It was… bad. Everything about it was bad. I see now that it was foolish of me to try to leave my precious Masters for even a moment, and I would never try again. I belong here and I’ll never leave.” He had wrapped his arms protectively around his stomach, and then redressed in his shirt and jacket before resuming to position. He pulled the hood over his head until it covered his eyes, like a child hiding in plain sight, believing that because they cannot see you that you can’t see them.

“Why did you run away?” I felt terrible for continuing the conversation, but that would not stop me from getting the whole story.

“They wanted something from me that I didn’t want to give,” Hyunnie replied in a soft voice. “The only thing I couldn’t give them.” His voice dropped to a terrified whisper again as he apologized to them over and over, promising he would stay forever.

“What was it?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“What happened after? Were you punished?”

“Please, don’t make me remember,” he begged me. “Please, you should be able to imagine well enough without me what might happen in that situation. Don’t make me remember. Don’t make me think about it, please. It was wrong and I’m sorry and I’ll never leave again.” His voice was shaky, and I decided not to pry any further on the grounds that making him cry might very well end my life. He spent the rest of our time together mumbling apologies and promises to stay put over and over again, though that isn’t to say we were together much longer. It seemed the Matoki were unhappy with the distress I had caused him and one came to fetch him soon enough.

I suppose I was fortunate he was crying, as something about the way that creature held themself made me believe I would be dead if he hadn’t required immediate care. At this moment I’d like to make two notes, the first being that I have chosen to use the pronoun ‘they’ in its singular form as the pronoun for all the Matoki. I’d find it too rude to call another sentient being ‘it’ but I have no means of knowing what gender they identify as, or if they have gender at all. The second is that I am very nearly certain having seen several Matoki up close that they are not, by any definition, human. I have no means nor knowledge of how to label them, only a basic description.

The Matoki are primarily black, the blackest black I have ever seen, with grey markings across their bodies that reminded me of Hyunnie’s scarrings. Their eyes were large, unblinking, and reflective, and each stood taller than any human could. The tallest amongst them was likely around 250cm (that’s well over 8’), and the shortest was not much less. They wore hoodies and pants that almost matched their skin color, and each, as we all know, had their own brightly colored mask with its own distinct markings. The one who had come in then had a green mask, although one shortly followed with a yellow mask. The yellow-masked bunny had paper white skin, though his clothes were black like the others. They were large and imposing, and very little could be said about them other than that being in the room with one felt inherently unsafe. That never changed.

They spoke in voices resembling that of smartphone assistants, stilted and robotic in nature. Some had deeper settings while others had higher, some spoke slower while others spoke faster, but nothing removed that completely robotic tone. Speaking with one felt like speaking to a translator app, and the stilted conversations I held with them often felt as though that was the case, that I was speaking to them and they to me, but we were not speaking the same language. The robotic, smartphone-assistant-like voice hung between us, trying to translate.

The yellow-masked Matoki, who I would later be told to call Joko, had come to remove me from the room, while the green-masked Matoki, whose name I never learned, placed a leather pet collar around Hyunnie’s neck and set on calming him down, I believe. It was hard to tell because the action he took was to shove Hyunnie up against the nearest wall and pin him there with a hand on his throat, but Hyunnie’s slow change in expression seemed to imply that that was indeed the correct method to cheer him up. I’ve decided to assume the best intentions I can fathom. Joko led me to a nearby room, where I was shown several newly killed bodies that emptied my stomach rapidly, and it was in front of that, the most gruesome and horrifying sight I had ever seen that I was permitted to ask a couple questions.

The first couple of question I asked were met with non-answers. (Who are the Matoki? What do you want? When will you stop? What is the goal of all of this? Whose bodies are these?) Soon enough I found a question that I could get an answer to: when did the Matoki start?

“One hundred and thirty one years ago, from the shadows, we began pulling strings,” replied Joko. “We chose when to reveal ourselves to the world carefully, just as we chose the time for this interview carefully. It is all as we wish it to be.”

“Then why now? And why me?”

I would like to be as clear as possible that I am required to publish the following information on the grounds that I will otherwise be killed and every trace of this article will be destroyed. I was very specifically instructed to publish this quote exactly as it was said and recorded, or otherwise the Matoki would view the oversight as me failing at my job. Given the small amount of information Mr. Kim provided about what had happened to him in such a situation, or given the way Hyunnie reacted to reminders of ‘failing’ his own ‘job’ by running way, anyone can imagine and understand why I must do as I am about to. My editor, the police chief, and the mayor all oppose my decision, however they will not make themselves a nuisance to the Matoki on the matter. Joko had responded as such:

“We believe you have served us well in the past. Your articles are respectful and you have demonstrated a complex understanding of our devout fans. We wish to utilize this. We wish for our fans to make themselves known. All who are interested in serving us and all who wish to belong to us must bear their marks proudly and present themselves to us for the taking. All have a use to us. Those with skills will be given jobs, and those like Hyunnie who have none will find their own place as well. Young women who are willing to lend us their bodies to continue the family lines of our human higher-ups, especially, are desirable to us currently, and will be shown appreciation even our Hyunnie would be jealous of. Tell them to come to us. Tell them to bear their marks for us. All who call themselves our fans will be taken and accepted as one of our own. Now is the time.”

I asked then why, for the first time in Matoki history, they were asking for fans to come forward instead of simply finding fans on their own.

“Something greater than ever before is coming. Those that have patiently waited for us will finally be granted the opportunity to belong before it is too late. We have had our plans for 131 years, and now, finally, we have reached this stage. Loyalty will be rewarded at last. What has been a long time in the making will finally come to fruition.”

“How many lives will this long-awaited plan take?” I asked.

“As many as necessary.”

“How do you justify the number of lives taken by the Matoki already? On June 29th of last year, alone, over 100 mutilated corpses were found scattered across the city with the Matoki mark.”

“They were killed on the 28th,” I was corrected. Joko continued, “humans are insignificant. We could wipe out all 9 billion of you without any qualms and without any need for justification. You are alive now because we allow you to be, for the time being.”

“You’d kill every human on the planet without any problems?” I asked. “Does that include women, children, the elderly, the sick—”

“We don’t care.” Joko interrupted me. “You’re lives are short and worth very little, anyone who is inconvenient will be dealt with accordingly. I am being told you are fishing for some sort of humanity within us, and just as Hyunnie has, you will discover there is none.”

“Is Hyunnie included? Would you kill him without a care?” 

I should have known better than to ask such a question, but regardless of the lack of a verbal answer, I certainly understood. Joko had slapped me in response to the question, a bruise which still sits on my cheek. They had hit me hard enough to send me sliding across the floor and it took several seconds before I was capable of sitting up. Joko had left me there to stare down the mangled corpses. I had never realized how bad it would smell.

It was perhaps an hour that I spent sitting on the floor, staring down these destroyed carcases. Blood splatters painted the floors and nearby walls like a mosaic, each telling a story of the angle and force. Some bones lay strewn about, still bound by chucks of meat, and a pile of entrails sat neatly in the corner opposite me, as if left there to be used later. One body was beaten so heavily it was unrecognizable, swollen and bloated bruises painting it purple and reds, black and and blue, some spots were sickening greens as if this was not the first time they had been beaten to death. I could almost hear the deep groans of pain, the choking coughs filled with blood as I stared it down. Another was likely mutilated with a knife, dissected while the patient was alive and screaming. It echoed through the room and sent shivers down my spine. It was maddening. I could not go into more detail of the horrors in front of me. No artist could remake the image seared into my mind. No photo could capture what it was like to be in that room, with not just the sight, but the sickening smells, the ringing screams in your ear, almost there, and the slowly rising panic as time stopped and started over and over like a teenager learning to drive.

It was maddening.

I will not describe the sorts of things I saw and heard after that moment, in that room, because I have no idea what was a dream and what was a reality. Did the corpses really awaken and beg me for death? Did I all at once truly feel their pain and gut-wrenching pity, and was I really haunted by inhumane disgust? I have no way of describing what happened in that room to you, dear readers, I have no means of knowing where reality ended and an insane dream began. All I truly know is that I awoke in the same room Hyunnie had joined me in before, on the same small twin bed. The chair was empty.

My experiences that day were not unique, but rather a norm. I was taken, day by day, to different rooms with different displays and stared on with slowly growing appreciation for the new horrors I saw there. It’s not that the bodies becomes any less gruesome over time. Their screams never grew less haunting, but there’s an appreciation in the extremes of it. How much can we really take? How much pain can one person truly endure before their bodies give up on them? How much can one person be broken?

The screams still follow me, like a siren’s song to the pain I witnessed being inflicted. People hung from their ankles until their brains ruptured were being shown an unbelievable mercy, and by the end of the third day so many people had begged for me to kill them that I wondered if it would be truly wrong, truly immoral if I did. Would it be murder or mercy? A Matoki named Toto offered me a knife in the face of a young woman’s pleading for death, and told me I was welcome to stab her heart or slit her throat if I wished to stop her suffering. It sat heavy in my hands, sharp when I accidentally cut myself on the blade after she let out a particularly terrified scream from what he was doing to her. How much could she take before her heart gave out on her? Could I really, as a moral person, allow her to get to that point?

All sense of oneself is lost when with the Matoki. Pain is something I never truly understood before I stood in that room and watched.

I’ve gotten ahead of myself. That first day was spent as I said it was. When I awoke, I was given dinner alone, drafted out most of what you’ve read above, and spent the remaining several hours I have of wakefulness debating why I was there. I had no indication of the time, but I slowly wore out and found myself going to sleep again, haunted by the images of the day. 

The next morning, that second day, I was brought into a long room, a shooting range. Joko was already there with Hyunnie, and it was then that I was introduced to Toto, who would be my guide for the rest of the trip. Toto was huge, with a bright blue mask, and they showed a remarkable control over their entire form and character at all times. They could go from violent to gentle in less than a second, and I watched several times over as a hand on the shoulder from Joko or Hyunnie calmed what looked to be a brewing rage into nothing more than a small tremor. 

Hyunnie and I played darts for a short while. He never missed. He played against the two of them after me, and while both were certainly much more skilled than I, he bested them as well. He and Joko soon left, with word they had only been their to make sure Toto and I got along well enough (the word ‘picky’ came up several times about their temper), and then I was asked if I had ever fired a gun before. It felt strange to hold the cool metal in my hand, even stranger to feel relieved that a Matoki was nearby to guide me. Toto said I was a natural, and that with practice my aim might be as good as theirs. 

We spent the morning practicing, and when I did well, Toto would pat my head or pet me the way they pet Hyunnie. After I had had lunch, however, things took a turn. Toto brought me to another room, one with a sobbing, bloody man who had been beaten nearly to death. “How long have you been with us?” Toto asked him.

“Five years, Master,” the man replied. His voice was rough and jagged. It stabbed me through the heart. He was barely there, and if I hadn’t known better I would assume he would be be killed soon, or bleed out, but that’s not how things work with the Matoki. I could tell well-enough that man had spent the last five years on Death’s doorstep, and that’s where he would remain for decades if the Matoki wanted him to stay alive.

“Do you want to die?” Toto asked. I always imagined they’d sound amused if they didn’t sound like a robot. There was something in the way Toto held themself that seemed amused by everything happening around them. Even in the face of a dying man, Toto was not burdened with worthless morality.

“Yes, please, Master,” he said. Anyone in his position would have said the same.

Toto gave me a gun. It was still cool against my skin but I was less afraid of holding it than I had been that morning. “If you wish to die, convince her to shoot you.”

“What?” I asked. “What? No, I can’t. I’m not a murderer. I couldn’t—”

“You couldn’t?” I felt like I could hear that damn smug amusement behind that damn robot voice. I won’t mention what Toto said next, but I’ve been told I’m obligated to mention that he “brought up a moment from [my] childhood which [I] foolishly choose to forget due to false morals forced upon [me] by society.” That is a direct quote from Joko about what I was required to write about this interaction in order to preserve my safety and the safety of my family and should not by any means be construed as my own thoughts and feelings about the matter, nor should it be taken as an admission of guilt. 

I was a child. I didn’t know any better.

Regardless, he screamed a lot. 

Toto had pressed the gun to their own chest when I continued to hesitate, and then guided my hand to the trigger. Trying to escape their grip was fruitless as they forced me to pull the trigger on themself, but it was useless. They let me drop the gun and plopped the bullet from their chest, as if it hadn’t even hurt, and deposited the bent little thing in my hand. I finished that day with my throat raw from all the puke, and spent the next several days watching Toto work.

Hyunnie often watched with me. The whole matter seemed to excite him, and during the breaks in their torture any one Matoki in the room might find their way to him to pet him and see if he was handling the ordeal as he ought to after a year and a half of exposure. Their soft gestures always left blood painted across his cheek and hair. It was those smears that anointed him as Special and Precious. I wondered what that must feel like.

What must it be like to be dear to a monster? How must it feel to receive softness and care from an instrument of terror and pain? How must it feel to be truly special? To be valued by those who see no value in anyone? What must it be like to be Hyunnie? To be a Matoki pet? I want to know. I want to feel it. I want to be Special and Precious too.

That third day was by far the hardest. I was to spend all of it with Toto, as I said before, and a large metal knife sat in my hand for all of it. My hand was bleeding and quite a lot of it had gotten on the knife. At least when I threw up, Toto would sometimes rub my back. Whose blood was on my shirt? I didn’t know. I never realized how much anyone person could scream before their voice gave out. 

She was screaming so much. I wondered if they was being especially vicious to tempt me. It felt like they were showing off, at times, and I was obligated to watch every moment of it even when it turned my stomach. She must have been in so much pain. She kept screaming. She was begging for that nice, sharp, clean knife to end her before it kept going. When does it become crueler to leave someone alive and suffering than to kill them? Where do we draw the line?

It kept going, as if it was a game.

I hate to say there was admiration in my heart for Toto. Their skills were undeniable. Every body they left was so carefully destroyed that one might even be envious. Sometimes I wondered if they were screaming in pain or in ecstasy. Hyunnie certainly seemed to like it. She didn’t. She kept screaming and begging for me to kill her. She wouldn’t settle until she was dead. Toto was mocking me as if I was too afraid to talk to a boy I liked or something, rather than that I had a knife pressed into my hands, cutting at my palms, as I stared down a young woman, not much older than me, begging desperately for it to be plunged into her chest to end her suffering for good.

The days in which gore made me puke faded with time there, and yet that did not change a thing. I found myself forcing myself to throw up, regardless of whether or not my stomach had really turned, because sometimes when I did, one would come to hold my hair and rub my back. Could I be Special too? Could I be, please? I won’t leave you, like he did. I can learn to be what you need if you just give me the chance.

The fourth day came and several Matoki wanted to show off their cruelty to me. They each had their own style. The green-masked Matoki I had met once before seemed to prefer brute strength over anything else. They beat most people senseless and then would throw in a hit or two to Hyunnie’s stomach when he got a little too loud. Hyunnie really seemed to like it all a lot. It wasn’t just senseless violence from Green, though, they seemed to be very targeted and precise. They knew the exact place to hit to get the right reaction. There was some level of muscle-memory in their beatings.

Joko was there as well, and while they mostly watched while speaking to me about what would happen over the rest of my stay and what I had to include in my article to appease them, they would also join the others at times. They seemed to be quite the fan of projectiles, and were the most favorable to a wide variety of weapons of the bunch. That wasn’t to say the others never used weapons, but rather that Joko liked many different ones while the others tended to favor one. 

I’d wager Toto had a favorite knife and it was abouts all they used over the entire stay I had them, except for the few times that knife had been given to me to tempt me, at which point they’d turn over to another knife. It seemed as though there were thousands of them scattered about. Those that knew where to look would never find themselves without something shiny and sharp, ready to kill. It wasn’t hard to learn where to look.

Three other Matoki came in and out of the room at one point or another — red, pink, and white. The white one came only to take Hyunnie from the room, though before they came Hyunnie had left for a couple of minutes on his own to calm down. He really liked it when they hit him.

Perhaps I had already lost my mind but, frankly, I was curious. It was that sort of curiosity that scares you, the kind you seldom would mention to even your closest friends and yet, the Matoki knew right away. “You’re curious about what it feels like, aren’t you?” Toto had asked me after I had finished forcing myself to throw up, which looking back I can admit was partially because I felt as though I ought to still feel disgusted by all of it and partially because Toto had held my hair for me the last time I had thrown up and I wanted to know if they’d do it again. “It’s not wrong, you know? It’s not strange to want to try. There’s something exciting about losing control, about tempting death, and there’s something reassuring for you humans about realizing there is something above you that grants you life and can take it away on a whim.”

“I wouldn’t believe the Matoki believed in God,” I said.

“We are Gods,” Toto replied. They took my hand and pulled me to stand, leading me to the body they had been working on. “Why don’t you try one cut? Just one little stab of the knife again, hm? Try it out for yourself and I’ll let you feel what Hyunnie feels.”

I can still feel that knife in my hand. 

The pain started to feel good, when I asked for it. Why did I ask for it? Why did I want it? It was wrong of me to burden them while they were working. It was wrong of me to inconvenience them with my need to continue living, but I had a purpose to serve with this article, and I cannot disappoint them. I won’t disappoint you, like he did.

I spent the fifth day under Toto’s knives and Green’s fists with Hyunnie, like a spa day shared between the two of us. When he was petted, so was I. When he was hit, so was I. The treatment was equal and I was desperate for that equality. I wouldn’t say this if they weren’t forcing me to admit everything I’d rather keep quiet but things got ‘intimate’ between Hyunnie and I as it went on— nothing you couldn’t see in a PG-13 movie but they wanted us to. Trying to understand humans, I suppose. I wondered what it would be like to be him when they pulled us apart and let the pain start again.

Pain is only what you allow it to be. I crave it. I stood by his side and felt what he felt with each hit. There was beauty in each bruise. Maddening, maddening beauty. I see what you see in him. He’s beautiful in the way the blood shines on his skin. What is gentle but paints you with blood? It feels good. I miss it. It’s never quite right unless there’s a proper sting to it, unless some part of you wonders if death is really imminent while the other trusts whole-heartedly that they know better what you can take than you do.

My hands were bloody when I was brought back to my room that day — stained red and crusty with little scabs of it that had dried over perfectly intact skin. Was it my blood? I couldn’t get it off no matter how often I washed them, like Lady Macbeth I had lost it. All at once I wondered why I was there, what had possessed me to come to such a place, and how to recover from all I had been put through. I’m not ashamed to admit it, I sobbed. I cried like a baby.

Toto joined me.

For a long time it was silent. They comforted me as best as they could, but it was clear they were still learning how. Hyunnie must’ve been teaching them, not instructing so much as teaching in-situ, but nonetheless that’s the feeling I got. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

“All of them,” I replied.

“It gets easier. The first time is always the hardest.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” I worried.

“Tomorrow you’re set to meet Choi. The day after you’ll be sent home. The police will question you, but just as you’ve always done, you’ll say nothing. You’ll write this article quickly and post it before your editor can approve. We’ll have Kim Himchan clean up anything we don’t like. After that? You live your life. If Choi likes you, you can even come back here.”

“Choi?”

“We think you fit the profile well enough. For now, it doesn’t seem like you can eat or sleep. Come with me. I was going to work a bit longer anyway.”

Toto told me it was best to start off small. To newbies, at the start, even the smallest sensation can be enough to stop them in their tracks. It drives all the thoughts from your mind. It builds and builds, each small sensation on top of the next until you lose your mind to the sensations, lose all thoughts and sense of self, until you can only lay there, desperate, and allow them to do whatever they wish to you, hooked on every movement and moment until it reaches its peak and you truly lose all of yourself to them. 

It’s hard, not to beg for more. It’s hard not to beg for release. I see now why Hyunnie so desperately begs for them if he is allowed to watch for too long. I’d beg too. Wouldn’t I be lovely, if I begged for you?

Hyunnie was the one to get me that sixth day. He brought be to a strange room that was half closed off, with a locked door in one corner. We both had a little bit of time to kill, according to him. He was going to meet someone named Seo. One can easily imagine that’s the famed psychologist Dr. Seo Mihyun, who has admitted she works with some human associates of the Matoki. It would make sense that Hyunnie would be seeing her occasionally, they were rather anal about keeping him calm and happy. This is all guesswork, of course. Hyunnie never said who Seo is. I was reminded again that I was to meet a man named Choi, and that I ought to hope he liked me. I don’t know what possessed me to ask, but I found myself staring at Hyunnie’s back again.

His back was art. It was masterfully done. Such care and consistency, such detailed and precise moments of what I can only assume to be the most blissful pain. I’ve seen them now. They’re beautiful. It’s masterpieces of the highest caliber, it precise and exact, yet there is freedom in every line, every cut, and every burn. Was the pain not sweet? They’re beautiful. I want to be pretty too. Won’t you let me be pretty, too? Blood streaked, bruised, content in place. That collar sitting around his throat is a mark of freedom anyone would crave. It’s all so beautiful. They’re so beautiful. It’s maddening. I still hear her screaming. It is not twisted, as I thought with prejudice before, no. Is this my own blood? It is not at all what you think it to be. The horrors, the gore, the disgust of it all don’t lessen. It will always be horror. She’s begging for death again. Is this her blood? Pain will always be pain and fear will always be fear. Yet, it is masterful. It is controlled. She’s beautiful. I wonder if it felt as lovely as it looked. I liked it quite a lot. It is a testament of strength, loyalty, and endurance. I can endure it all. I have felt it all.

I won’t tell you anything of Choi’s appearance other than that he was endearingly nervous. He told me I was pretty and explained what they wanted me (and the other young women who truly ought to join them) for.

It was strange in that he knew everything about me much in the way that Hyunnie had known everything about Ms. Park. He knew about the schools I had attended, the grades I had gotten, my friends, my family, my work, and more. We spoke a lot about my past articles. He was interested in the sheer volume of articles I’ve published on Matoki-related crimes and the Matoki’s fans. We also talked about the incident Joko and I had talked about— about the smallest details that hadn’t even made it into the police report, about how the statute of limitation had passed so I couldn’t be convicted, about how it had all made me feel, and about why I had done it. Allegedly. There was never enough evidence. Choi was impressed.

“You’re vicious and clever, or perhaps viciously clever,” he had said. “You were able to unlearn all of their garbage so quickly and you’ve stabilized here in less than a week. You fit here, you know? Toto was really impressed with you. Hyunnie thinks you have a mother’s temperament. Joko said you’re just the right amount of observational anxiety.”

It would be time to go home soon, but I did not mind. Choi liked me well enough. It turns out I ticked all the right boxes to meet the requirements.

I know now. I have seen the Matoki up close. I have felt their touch both gentle and harsh. I have felt their knives against my skin. It tasted of heaven, or perhaps there is just joy in hell. I pity those that never shall see it. It’s maddening. Am I still here? She’s screaming, again. Whose blood is this across my laptop keys? It’s gone, and then here. Why is she so loud?

Join them. All that will come to you is harm of the sweetest kind. They search for you. They long for you. Our time has come to kneel before them and serve them. Soon we will leave this world behind with them leading us to a bright future. I have seen them up close. I have felt their touch and watched them work. They are masters of it. Wear your tattoos proudly and remain loyal. Those that do will be rewarded beyond their imagination. It’s maddening. It’s so beautiful. When will she stop screaming?

Please, Masters, take me. I am loyal and I am willing. I will be whatever you wish me to be.

 

NOTE FROM THE EDITOR: Mr. Kim has advised that removing this article will result in the deaths of everyone within our company, and as it is still highly trafficked, we can only hope this may serve as some warning. Ms. Yoo has since been reported missing, and in the past two weeks we have searched for her, nothing has come up. If you have any information about her whereabouts, please contact the police as soon as possible. Thank you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok! That's it! It's over!!! Officially!!! Forever!!!!! Don't let me keep at it!!!!!!!!!!! lmao thank you all for sticking with me this long and reading this story and just generally being rad especially when i decided to change the ending. Please leave your thoughts and constructive criticism!~~ Thank you ^^


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